Against These Fragments
by Amberssister
Summary: Jack and Ianto's relationship from start to finish. Multi-chapter. Angst, fluff, some things that are decidedly not fluff, and much in between. Warnings for language and major spoilers for the whole series. CHAPTER 13 RATED SLIGHT M.
1. Coffee Spoons

_A.N: __This is a multi-chapter fic I'm working on that centres on the Janto relationship fro start to *sob* finish. I've uploaded the first three chapters; PLEASE leave a review if you'd like more. Much love to all the Janto fans out there - Amberssister_

_A.N pt2: The disclaimer - I own nothing. All rights belong to RTD and the BBC. I make no money and intend to harm. I'm just having a bit of fun._

It was enough to give Jack a nervous tick if he thought about it too much, so he tried never to think about it. He'd been alive for quite a bit more time than most people, but he didn't know everything, and was certainly no psychiatrist. It was weird, sure, and Jack had never, in all of his years, seen anything else like it, but it probably wasn't a problem. Hell, most people would laugh if they found out that having a clean, neat, meticulous receptionist bothered him. He knew he would laugh if anyone else said it, but he doubted anyone else had a receptionist quite like Ianto. In all of space and time, Ianto had to be one of a kind, and _that_ was what worried Jack.

He knew people were all unique, and all special, and all of that, but they were all generally _people._ Everyone had a vice, or a personality problem, or a social disorder. Jack had known drinkers, and users, bullies, and cowards, people who were altogether too clever, or too lazy, or who simply couldn't go to bed before dawn or wake up before noon. Good people, decent people, all of them, and they'd all shared the simple human trait of fallibility. No one was perfect, in Jack's experience, until Ianto.

It wasn't that he was perfect to the point of rubbing it in; that could have been considered a problem. It wasn't that he showed up on time and did his job well, and felt smugly superior at everyone else. Jack could have rolled with that, if not necessarily liked it. Jack wouldn't have given that a second thought, so of course, that wasn't it at all. The problem (well, not problem, but concern) was that Ianto was perfect in subtle small ways that most people would never notice.

He did show up on time, and he did do his job well. Even though his job changed from day to day, Ianto always did what was asked of him, without complaints, and, more importantly, without question. Not even the usual 'how do you mean, exactly?' or 'and how would you suggest I do that, hmmm?' that would have made Jack more comfortable, especially since a lot of what he told Ianto to do fell into a category of things Ianto shouldn't know how to do. But, even though he never asked, his job always, _always _got done, leaving Jack to assume that he either had Time Lord levels of knowledge, or he was very, very good at figuring things out for himself. Either way, it meant that Ianto was remarkably more intelligent then he at first seemed, and _that _wasn't concerning. A lot of people were, and it was nothing to worry about. But, it wasn't just that.

There was also the time thing. Ianto was punctual, to the point of being obsessive. He didn't just show up on time, he did everything on time. He started a fresh pot of coffee at nine exactly, every morning, and Jack had a cup in hand at 10 past, every day, on the dot. Jack always received his first, then Tosh, Suzie, and, finally Owen. Owen's was put in front of him at 15 past the hour, without fail, every single day since the first one. And, _that_, kids, was really freaking strange, by anyone's standards. Ianto was never late with it, nor was he early, and he couldn't have orchestrated it better if he'd religiously timed it, which was something Jack had never caught him doing. It was like he simply had an internal clock that was set to go off at 'coffee time', and also at 'paperwork time', 'snack time', and 'dinner time'.

It wasn't even something Jack would have noticed; if it weren't for the fact that Ianto's schedule was training the rest of them. Jack had found himself instinctually holding his hand out to receive a coffee mug at 10 past nine every morning, no matter what else he was doing, and he'd noticed the others doing the same thing. Nor was that the only teaching they'd received. Before Ianto, Jack's team had always been catch as catch can as far as food was concerned. They ate when enough of them complained of being hungry, or if someone had brought in biscuits. Now, they ate when Ianto served them food, which he did at the same times everyday. Normally, if Ianto had been a normal person, Jack would have resisted being trained like a puppy, but Ianto wasn't normal, and he wasn't doing it out of some Napoleonic thirst for power. Jack would have been surprised to find out Ianto even knew he was doing it, for that matter, which only made it weirder.

So, the time thing was odd, no question about it, but not as odd as what Jack had taken to calling the Cleanliness Conundrum. Theirs was a job that entailed a certain amount of clutter; there was no way around it. Everywhere you looked inside the Hub, there were small piles of junk that were in the middle of being sorted, or couldn't be sorted, or had to be left out for some project or the other. Everyone had paperwork piled up, the tables were littered with graphs and charts and gadgets and weaponry, and it was generally a mess. A very neat, organized, everything-in-its-place kind of mess. It shouldn't even be possible, but there it was.

If Ianto couldn't put something on a shelf, or stack it nicely in a cupboard, he had a way of leaving it exactly where it was, _but making it seem like that was exactly where it was supposed to be._ It was enough to give Jack a nervous tick if he thought about it too much. And, if that wasn't enough, not only could Ianto tell you where any piece of junk in the entire Hub was located at any given time, the others had picked up the habit of putting things back where they'd gotten them from. That made sense if you'd pulled a book off of a shelf, or a gun out of the weapons closet, but when you'd grabbed an old pie graph from the bottom of a pile of rubble, putting it back was fucking mind-blowing. Not that Jack didn't do it himself, because _of course_ he did. The pie graph _belonged_ at the bottom of the rubble pile, just as the rubble pile certainly belonged in the corner of the table, by dint of the fact that Ianto hadn't put it anywhere else.

Mind-blowing, sure, as was the fact that no one else had noticed these things. If it had been anyone but Ianto, anyone normal, then the entire team would have taken arms against how utterly annoying and pretentious it all was. It wouldn't matter how much easier their lives were being made, because most anyone would rather have to look for an old graph all day, then put up with being trained about rubble-piles by the receptionist. It was a human thing, a people thing, and people were generally always _people_. Except, they didn't notice anything strange where Ianto was concerned. Sometimes, it was like they didn't notice Ianto at all. He kept himself to himself, and he had a way of making himself sort of disappear unless he was right in front of you. In short, in seemed like it was Ianto who didn't act quite like _people_, and the others disregarded it because it was simply too strange.

Jack did the same, mostly; _of course_ he did. Jack tried not to think about it too much, because when he did he had to wonder and worry about what it meant. He was positive that Ianto hadn't been born this way, but made this way by something terrible, and he knew terrible things could sometimes make terrible people. Terrible things could force decent people into terrible actions, and, if Jack was being honest, he liked Ianto too much to really think about that. Ianto had been at Canary Wharf, and he was still very young, and if the worst that came out of that was a perfectionist attitude that would make most psychiatrists turn it their coats, then so be it. It was interesting, but Jack honestly didn't think it was a problem. Mostly, he was able to _convince_ himself that he honestly didn't think it was a problem, but, sometimes, when he was alone in the dead of night, and his thoughts turned to Ianto of their own accord, Jack knew better.


	2. Breakfast Plates In Basement Kitchens

_A.N.: As always, all rights belong to RTD and the BBC. I own nothing, and I make no money. [__Insert standard plea for reviews here]_

Jack hated to admit it, but he wouldn't have been half so angry about Ianto's cyber-girlfriend if he hadn't felt so personally betrayed by the whole business. He hated to admit he felt that way, because he knew he didn't have any right to. Betrayed, yes, he had been, they all had been, and they all had the right to feel angry, but not on the deep, personal level Jack had taken it to. He would have liked to chalk it up to being betrayed as the leader, as the boss, as the soul reason Torchwood 3 existed and did any kind of good at all, but he couldn't. That had been how he'd felt after he'd found out about Suzie, and that had been different.

This was darker than that. This was deeper than that. This was the delicate kind of anger, the kind that left you a hairsbreadth away from doing something damning that you couldn't take back, that left you wound up tight and shrill, because once it's fragile, thin surface was cracked, you were left with the throbbing, deep-seated pain of having been deceived on an emotional level. It was the kind of anger you felt fiercely, and tried to hold onto because it was so much easier than what came next. It was the kind of anger that made you do the things you were the most ashamed of later.

Jack had liked Ianto, he honestly had. He'd let things go that he shouldn't have, that he wouldn't have, if he hadn't liked him so much. Worse, he'd thought Ianto liked him. Not tolerated him, wasn't enamoured with his mystery, didn't hate him for the loud and sometimes extremely thin disguise he always wore, but actually liked him for what he showed, and didn't worry about the rest. It was the way Ianto had always acted when they were alone. Unlike everybody else, including Gwen (who Jack would freely admit to being taken with), Ianto didn't ask too many questions, but he didn't put up with a lot of Jack's shit either. Sometimes, for a man in Jack's unique position, it was hard not to feel superior to everyone else; it was hard not to feel like some sort of God. Then, Ianto would roll his eyes, and tell him he was acting like a tit, and Jack would snap back to reality. Just because he was, so far, effectively immortal didn't mean he was any wiser than anyone else. Well, perhaps a little wiser, but no better, and certainly no less human. Ianto had the ability to make Jack feel _human_, that was the thing. When they were alone, Ianto had no trouble calling him out for his attitude, or disagreeing with his decisions, and he never seemed surprised or wary when Jack talked about life in the 17th centaury, or the technology of the 27th. Ianto was easy to talk to, he was easy to talk _at, _and Jack had assumed that Ianto liked him.

It never occurred to Jack that Ianto simply didn't care. Nor had it occurred to him that he really couldn't be said to care for Ianto, now that he thought about it. Jack had always been so wrapped up in his own problems, his life and his own stories, that he really hadn't bothered to find out anything about Ianto, past what was in the Torchwood files. He'd always used Ianto like he was a fact; something honest and reliable that would always be more than happy to do as Jack said, sort of like a pet. Like a dog with exceptional training, and an indifferent owner. Then, Jack had actually been surprised when his hand got bit. Still, even now, at least Ianto still had the ability to make him feel very foolish, and very human.

Jack sat at his desk, brooding about these things, and wondering what he was supposed to do next. Simply firing Ianto was out of the question, and the time for killing him had passed. If Jack wanted to be shut of him, he'd have to Retcon him, come up with a decent story to tell his family, if Ianto had any family, which Jack was ashamed to admit he didn't know. All in all, it seemed like a little too much work to cap a day like this, and it didn't really matter, because it wasn't going to happen. Ianto would be sticking around if he wanted to, and Jack knew it. They all did; it hadn't even been a question.

The only question now, then, was what Ianto would decide. If he wanted the Retcon, Jack would give it to him. If he wanted a fight, Jack would give him that, too. Either way, the night was over, people had died, the rest of the team had gone home, Ianto was still downstairs cleaning up the mess, and it was time for Jack to find him, and talk about what they were going to do about it. Jack slowly made his way downstairs, and followed the sound of water and clinking china that told him Ianto was doing the washing up. Jack paused at the kitchen doorway, and watched as Ianto methodically washed and dried mugs and plates.

He noticed how still Ianto was, besides the cleansing motions. He noticed how his hands didn't shake, and how even his breathing was. He noticed how pale Ianto had gone, besides the livid, angry wounds on his face and hands. For the first time, Jack was consciously glad that the Hub had no windows, because he didn't want to see how dead Ianto was sure to look in the cold morning light.

"Do you have any family?" Jack asked suddenly, and Ianto didn't even jump.

"A sister," he replied, in a dead voice, "her husband, and their kids. You won't have to tell them much. You could kill me, and you wouldn't have to tell them much. We aren't close."

"I'm not going to do anything to you," Jack said. "Why aren't you close?"

"Why do you care?"

"Because I never did," Jack said, and Ianto stopped still. For the first time, an expression flitted across his blank face, and Jack wasn't surprised to see it was anger.

"Don't start now. Just let me finish here, then you can do what you like."

"Ianto, we did what we had to do. Nobody wanted to hurt you-" Ianto turned his back to put the mugs on their shelf, and Jack grabbed his arm to spin him back around. The mug in his hand fell and shattered on the floor, the sound very loud, and the fragments between them.

"Ianto, I didn't… I never meant to hurt you. I'm sorry."

Ianto dropped his head a little, a gesture Jack recognised to mean Ianto was thinking about if he should say what was on his mind. Jack knew he would, because he usually did.

"I know," Ianto said, looking him dead in the eye, "but, it doesn't mean anything, Jack. I'm sorry. You'll never know how sorry I am, and you're sorry, and even Owen said _he_ was sorry, but it's useless. It doesn't take it back; it can't make it better. People died tonight, because of me. I'm responsible for that. I know, and I'm sorry, but it doesn't mean anything."

"Yes, it does. To be able to feel that guilt, and to be forgiven… that is one of the most powerful things there is."

"Who told you that?" Ianto asked, his voice raising. "The Doctor?"

Jack let go of his wrist, and stepped back from him quickly. His confusion must have shown on his face, because Ianto laughed.

"Torchwood, Jack. I worked for Torchwood 1, haven't you ever thought of what that meant? Our primary target was the Doctor, and we knew you were a companion of his. They knew things about you that I'll admit I don't, but I know there's something. Some big secret that made them afraid of you. I'm not afraid of you, Jack, and I know you're sorry. But, don't be fooled. It's all worthless."

Jack didn't respond at first, and Ianto simply turned back to the dishes. Jack watched until he was finished, and then he put his hands on Ianto's shoulders. He squeezed them gently, but it didn't ease the tension there.

"Like so many other things," he said, also gently, "we'll have to disagree on that. For what it's worth, or for what it isn't, I am sorry. And I forgive you. Now, go home."

"What then?" Ianto asked.

"Then you take some time off. Breathe, talk to your sister, mourn for Lisa. Then you come back to work, 8 AM sharp a week from today, and that's an order. I was going to give you the choice, but I don't think I can."

"So, that's my punishment then?" Ianto said, almost laughingly. "Indentured servitude?"

"No. It's not a punishment, but I don't think you can be trusted to do what's best for yourself right now. I want you to give me a month after you come back, and if you still want to walk, then so be it. One month, and then you can go if you want to. Intact, with your memories, if you want to."

"You'll just let me go?"

"I don't want too," Jack said, and that was the truth. "But, I will. I guess I owe you that much."

Ianto dipped his head again, but this time he stayed silent. Jack could guess what he'd been thinking. He'd wanted to ask 'why?' and 'for what?' but he'd known he wouldn't get an answer. Jack himself didn't even know, except, maybe, he owed Ianto for making him feel human sometimes. Ianto stood still for another minute, and then he made ready to leave. Jack watched him until he got to the door, and then called him back.

"Ianto? You aren't going to do anything rash and stupid are you?'

Ianto turned and looked at him, then shook his head. "I won't. I promise. I owe you that much."

He was gone before Jack could reply, but that was okay. Jack believed him. Though he had no reason to, hell, he had every reason not to, Jack still trusted and believed him


	3. Dead Land, Cactus Land

_A.N.: As per, I own nothing. All credit and rights belong to RTD, the BBC, and probably various other entities. I make no money. I do, however, LOVE reviews! _

Blood and bruises covered Ianto's body, and it made Jack feel queasy, something that hadn't happened to him in a long time. It wasn't just the sight of the boy that made him ill, but the _smell._ Ianto smelled of copper and old wells and the sweet yet putrid stench of decomposing meat. Jack had seen and smelled much worse in his life, but this was different. This was Ianto.

It was at times like this that Jack remembered how young Ianto was, and it always shocked him that some one that young could also be so brave. 23 years old, and Ianto had almost sacrificed his life to save Tosh. 23, and he would have died if Jack had been a second slower. 23, barely out of his teens, and he'd all ready been through more than enough for one lifetime. He'd been through enough for a hundred.

When Jack was 23, so long ago he could barely remember it, he'd been out on the pull every night; his bruises had come from bar fights and childish duels. He'd seen war and death and destruction, and he'd dealt with it with sex and drinks and outbursts. Ianto had been through much the same, but he'd become a hero, so much faster than Jack had done.

There was something kindred between them, a kismet energy born from the tragedy and torment of their respective pasts. Jack had felt it almost from the moment they'd met, but the bond was made ever stronger once Ianto's secret was revealed. It was ironic that Ianto had lied to him, used him, betrayed his trust, and it only made Jack feel closer to the boy. Once the anger had subsided, and Jack had had time to think it through, he'd realized he would have done exactly the same thing, if it had been Grey in Lisa's position. And that made him ache for Ianto, in the same way he ached for himself.

Owen had checked him over and given the okay for him to go home, but Jack couldn't bear the idea of him being that far from the hub and its medical supplies. So, he'd dropped the rest of the team off at there homes, and taken Ianto with him. Jack had been helping Ianto remove his clothes when the nausea hit him. Seeing Ianto covered in all sorts of viscous fluids and smelling of old death made him sick.

"Let's get you into the shower," he said, fighting back the bile in his throat. Ianto complied readily enough, climbing into the stall with Jack's help, but he stayed quiet throughout. He hadn't said a word all the way home, and he silent as Jack gently washed the blood and stench from his body.

That was pretty normal, Jack assumed, after what Ianto had been through, although Jack couldn't really imagine what it had been like. From Tosh's account, Ianto had been brave, he'd been damned heroic, and he'd sacrificed himself to let Tosh escape. Then he'd been put through hell; he'd been beaten, cut, bitten, basically tortured, and he'd endured it alone. That was the part that sickened Jack the most; that Ianto had gone through all of that tied and gagged, with a bag over his head, and he'd been alone.

Jack simply couldn't imagine what kind evil fuckery could live inside a human being for that to happen, and he really couldn't imagine what living through something like that would do to a person.

As the water washed away the filth and the blood, and the true extent of Ianto's injuries became visible, Jack felt his nausea turning to rage. He'd seen Ianto naked before, back before Lisa, and he'd always thought that he was beautiful. He had smooth skin overlaying tight, young muscles, with a few scars that added character. Scars that Ianto always refused to talk about. Jack had assumed that a lot of them had come from Canary Wharf, though there were others that seemed older than that. The wounds he saw now were deep and ugly, sure to scar worse than some of the others, and Jack wished he didn't know where they'd come from. It made the anger worse, because it was directed at himself.

"I should have killed them," Jack said, as he wrapped a towel around Ianto's waist. "I shouldn't have listened to Gwen, I shouldn't have given a damn about her need to know. They deserved to die for what they did to you. They deserved to be brought back here where I could have tortured them slowly."

"No," Ianto said, surprising Jack both because he hadn't expected Ianto to speak, and because he'd been unaware that he'd spoken himself.

"No," Ianto said again, filling the silence. "You're better than they are. They're monsters, and you're better than that." He started shaking then, and he began to weep, something Jack knew he never would have done if Owen hadn't loaded him up on morphine. Jack held him, and whispered nonsense words into his hair, hoping against hope that Ianto wasn't hurting himself more with his wracking sobs.

When Ianto was finished, and a bit calmer, Jack helped him dress, and then moved him down to Jack's private room. He tucked Ianto into bed, and then climbed in after him, pulling the younger man onto his chest.

" Why are you staying with me, sir?" Ianto asked. "Owen-"

"Owen's a great doctor, but right now, you need a friend."

"We're friends, sir?"

"Of course," Jack said, the pain in Ianto's eyes breaking his heart. Ianto simply nodded, and Jack couldn't tell if he was agreeing or just acknowledging what Jack had said. Jack knew Ianto was still hurt and angry over Lisa, but he hoped that would pass in time.

There was something between them, a kismet energy forged from common catastrophe, and as Jack lie next to him, listening to Ianto's breathing, he hoped it was something they could build on. Ianto needed a friend, and, quite frankly, so did Jack.

He was almost asleep, these thoughts tripping through his head when Ianto said, "I wish I'd died today, Jack. At least then I would have died a hero."

Jack pulled him tighter, but he didn't answer. For the first time in a long while, Jack found himself speechless


	4. Serving Tea To Friends

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed and alerted! It truly means a lot to me. I've added the next three chapters, but the next ones might come a bit slower. Please enjoy, and leave a review to let me know what you think. Peace, harmony, and Janto - Amberssister**

Disclaimer: Just checked, and 'Torchwood' still doesn't belong to me. All rights are the property of RTD and the BBC. I make no profit.

Jack would have expected Gwen to be the one Tosh would want to talk to about Mary, or maybe Owen, for no other reason than Jack knew how much she liked the medic, but she hadn't gone to either of them in the aftermath. Instead, she'd turned and buried her head in Ianto's chest, and screamed in his arms. Ianto had held her, and kissed her head, and whispered nonsense into her hair, and done all the other things men did when women cried, but the most important thing he'd done was let her scream. He hadn't tried to shush her, hadn't even tried to stop her when her emotions hit a fever pitch, and she'd started hitting him, flailing weakly against his stomach. He'd just held her until her emotion was spent, and when her knees had gone weak, he'd caught her and lowered them both to the ground so that they ended up sitting with her head cradled to his chest.

It hadn't been easy for him, Jack knew. No one found it easy for a friend to be in pain, and her grief hadn't been gentle. Jack ached for her, he really did. He didn't blame her for what had happened with Mary; Mary had used her, and Tosh's only crime had been wanting to believe someone found her interesting. It made Jack's heart hurt, and he was guiltily glad that he wasn't the one she'd gone to with her grief. It looked like it was overwhelming.

Ianto held through it though, with a gentle grace Jack wasn't altogether surprised to see he possessed, and when Tosh looked calmer, he'd gently moved her upstairs, where they could be alone. Jack watched through the window, as they talked for a minute, then Ianto came back downstairs and started to make her a cup of tea. It was technically Jack's job to do that, not the tea, but to talk to Tosh, to find out what had happened, but he'd known from the way she'd avoided eye contact with everyone but Ianto that she wouldn't talk to him now. That was okay, because Jack trusted Ianto to handle it. He was kind and he was clever, and he was absolutely capable of deposing Tosh without hurting her. Stopping to make her tea was just one example of that.

"Oi, Ianto, see if you can find out what she heard about me, yeah?" That had been Owen, of course, and Jack had shot Ianto a look that turned out to be unnecessary.

"No," Ianto had said, brushing past Owen with the tea, "ask her yourself, if you want, later. Not now, Owen."

Then he was gone, back up the stairs, without another word. Jack had felt a rush of pride for him then, and he was certain, not for the first time, that he'd made the right call, keeping Ianto on the team. It was hard to imagine what they would do without him. It was hard for Jack to imagine what he, personally, would do without him.

Ianto had spoken with Tosh for almost an hour, and Jack never found out about what. At one point, Jack had glanced through the window and seen Ianto wince, then shake his head and squeeze Tosh's hand. Mostly, it was Tosh that seemed to be doing all the talking, and Ianto just nodded sympathetically. He was a good listener, Jack knew, because he actually heard what you were saying, and he never judged. Tosh must have known that too, since she went to him without hesitation. Jack had felt a small stab at that thought, but he couldn't readily identify the feeling, and there had been more important things going on, so he'd pushed it out of his mind.

When it was over, and Jack had a chance to speak with Tosh himself, he knew he was getting the Cliffs Notes, but that was fine. If she'd told Ianto anything Jack needed to know, Jack would know it. He trusted that. Tosh hadn't told him anything he didn't expect to hear, until she got what she'd heard in Ianto's head.

"I never knew it was possible for someone to hurt that much, and not show it," she'd said, quietly and sadly. "I'm so worried for him, and I think you're the only one who can help him, Jack. Everything in his head is so dark, except when he thinks of you. Then its…" she'd smiled then, and sort of blushed, then shrugged. "I don't know what it is exactly, but it isn't dark like the rest of it." She'd talked about other things, and when Jack left her, he knew she'd be all right.

Of Ianto, Jack wasn't so sure. He ached for Ianto too. But, what he'd done for Tosh at least proved his worth to Jack. He was still hurting himself, but he'd been there for Tosh when she'd needed him. The fact that he was hurting was why Tosh had needed him, and Jack supposed Ianto had understood that. Ianto was carrying on, through his grief and despite it, and he was there when he was needed, and Jack supposed that was the best that could be expected at this point. Still, he made a mental note to keep a closer eye on the boy. Perhaps spend more time with him, outside of work. Not a date, of course, because Ianto was still had Lisa living inside of him, but Jack liked to think they were at least friends. He was sure Tosh would help him too; she seemed fond of Ianto, fonder than she was of the rest of them, except Owen.

He pondered the idea that Tosh and Ianto would make a very quiet and cute couple, and they would assuredly have gorgeous children. Maybe one day, when Tosh was over Owen, and Ianto had put Lisa away, that was the way it would work out. It was probably what was best for both of them. Until then though, Jack would happily be Ianto's distraction through his grief. Jack still liked him, very much.


	5. Dying With A Little Patience

_**A.N: I don't own 'Torchwood' or anything therein. All rights belong to RTD and the BBC. I don't get paid for this, and no harm is intended.**_

The sounds were almost worse than the smell, but just almost. He could drown the noise out with his thoughts, with the beating of his heart and the rasping of his breath, but the smell…nothing could disguise it. Blood smells like old wells and copper buttons, it's a thick smell, almost tangible. It filled his mouth, and he kept spitting, trying to rid himself of the taste, but the only real way to do that would be to stop breathing, and he was trying his damnedest not to do that.

He had one goal, and one goal only and that was to save Lisa, but he had to be alive to do that. He ran blindly in the dark, and it occurred to him that this isn't the way it happened, but it was happening _now_, and it had never happened before. His thoughts were confusing, and he tried to ignore them. He had to save her, this time he _would_ save her, and he focused on that. He ran until his legs should have buckled, trying to get away from the screams and the stench, trying to find salvation. He tripped at some point, his feet tangling together, betraying him, and he fell headlong into something soft and familiar.

He was pulled to his feet by strong hands, and he looked up to see Jack's face in the darkness. Again he heard a voice saying that this was wrong, this wasn't the right order of things, and again he ignored it.

"Help me," he said, gripping Jack's arms for support, "Please, Jack, before it's too late. We can still fix it."

Jack shook his head and pulled him tight, locking him in his arms and refusing to let him go.

"It's in your head, baby," Jack said. "This is all wrong. She's just in your head."

Ianto pushed back against him struggling to free himself. Jack's arms were like iron, unyielding and cold. Ianto could still hear them, all the voices begging and shrieking, and he could hear her to be saved. He screamed in frustration and anger, lashing out now, hitting Jack with his fists, sinking his teeth into Jack's hands. Jack simply stood there, taking each blow as it came, holding him tighter, his voice echoing ominously in the dark.

"She's in your head, sweetheart. But, I'm in there now, too."

xxxXXXxxx

Ianto awoke with a start, cold sweat dripping down his chest and back. He didn't scream, because he'd grown used to the nightmares, and he didn't want to wake Jack. The thought of Jack brought back a vague flash from his nightmare, Jack's arms holding him so tightly, refusing to let him go, and that flash brought forth a surge of anger. It was no doubt irrational, and Ianto had been trying so hard lately to live only in the rational world, but he still had his moments.

It had been slightly over two months since he and Jack had started doing whatever it was they were doing, and it ate at him sometimes. Not the act of it, but the _why. _Ianto's own reasons had seemed clear enough in the beginning. He liked Jack, he owed Jack, and, no matter how confusing it was, he'd been attracted to the man from the start. It had been the look on his face as they'd interred Suzie for the second, and hopefully final, time.

That look hadn't been the Captain's or their fearless leader's, it had been Jack's, his mask dropped, and he'd seemed so vulnerable and alone. The loneliness had radiated off of him in waves, and even after he'd put his Captain face back on, Ianto could still feel it. That look, and the tone in Jack's voice, had broken Ianto's heart, and he _owed_ Jack. He owed him his job, his life, and his sanity. So he'd offered him the one thing he knew Jack wanted from him. It had started out as solace, for both of them, but it had ended out here.

Ianto could no longer fool himself into believing that he was shagging Jack for altruistic reasons. He was shagging Jack because he had feelings for him, and that made him furious. In the real world, Lisa had been dead for a long time, but that had no meaning in his heart. He'd held on hope far past the point of sanity, he'd kept her alive in his soul, every heartbeat had pounded out her name, but now he was here, in bed with someone else. In _love_ with someone else, and he felt like his heart was being ripped in two. Loving Jack was agony, especially since he knew that Jack didn't love him back.

Ianto might have been crazy, but he wasn't one bit stupid, and he knew where he stood. He knew he suffered for Jack, suffered just being with him, and he knew it was well worth it for those brief moments when Jack was holding him and he felt alive and whole again. He also knew that Jack was oblivious to his struggles, and he wondered if Jack would care if he knew. It didn't matter either way, because the very fact that Ianto had to wonder meant that there was something very, very wrong.

Jack was in his head and his heart, not replacing Lisa, but moving past her, ripping Ianto to shreds in the process, and all the while Ianto knew that he was nothing but a passing fancy that had caught Jack's eye. Ianto knew Jack would leave him someday, for his Doctor, or Gwen, or some bloke on the street who was a little bit younger, a little bit fresher, than Ianto was. Of course, he wanted to be wrong, and, more than that, he wanted to have a higher opinion of the man he was not only sleeping with, but in love with, and most of the time he was able to push his fears aside. But, on nights like this one, when he was awoken by a nightmare, drenched in sweat and silent tears, while Jack lie resting peacefully beside him, he had his moments. He had his rage.

He'd forgiven Jack and the rest of them long ago for Lisa's death. Once he'd had time to think about it, once he'd started on the medication Owen demanded he take, he'd realised that it was never their fault. Lisa had died at Canary Wharf, and trying to keep her alive was almost as perverse as what Suzie had done to Gwen. It had been _almost _as perverse, but definitely as dangerous, and, in its own way, just as selfish. That was what Torchwood London and Canary Wharf had made of him. Jack made him something better, but that had a price. Ianto had all ready learned that all things did.

In this case, it was the anger and the guilt, followed by the grief. Not just grief for Lisa, but also the grief he felt for Jack, for the way he was all ready mourning what they had, as if it had all ready blown away on the bay air. It was worth it though, even the pain. Even the anger. Ianto had lost Lisa, and he'd seen Suzie die twice, and as far as he knew, life was tremendously short. His had thus far been filled with more anguish than he felt he could bear, and he knew he was going to have carry the weight of it for the rest of his short life. Oh, but sometimes even a minute felt like an eternity. The things he'd seen, the things he'd done… catastrophes, and tragedies and betrayals that there were no excuse for. It all piled up, and though he knew he wouldn't live forever, sometimes it felt like it had been forever all ready.

Lying next to Jack, watching him sleep and listening to him breathe, somehow made the universe seem so large, and time seem so vast as to make Ianto's portion of it nothing more than a brief thunderstorm over the sea. That was something else Jack radiated when his guard was down. It felt as if he'd been through all of space and time and gotten lost there. Kissing Jack was like gazing at the cosmos; it made Ianto feel small, and it took his breath away, and much like a star, Ianto knew he could never really possess it. Sometimes, Ianto felt like he was drowning in Jack. Still, it was worth it, because as terrifying as it was, it was also comforting, in its way.

Jack moaned in his sleep and opened his eyes, breaking Ianto from his reverie.

"Hey," Jack yawned, propping himself up on an elbow, "are you okay?"

"Yep," Ianto answered, his voice shaking only slightly. "Just got up for some water."

"Oh," Jack said, and placed a hand on Ianto's back. "Seven, by the way."

Ianto kept his expression impassive, and tried to will himself calm. 'Seven' could mean anything, and nothing Jack said would ever surprise him. He tried to wait it out, but Jack just kept looking at him with sleepy yet sharp eyes, that might have held just a hint of concern.

"Seven what, Jack?" Ianto finally said. "Dwarfs? Wives? Deadly sins? Seven what?"

"Seven times you've woken up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat and shaking, and then said you were fine. What's going on with you?"

"Nothing," Ianto said, just above a mumble. "I have… dreams."

"Do you want to talk about it? You can tell me anything."

Jack was using his earnest voice, and Ianto believed that he meant what he said, but he couldn't bring himself to say the thoughts he was having out-loud. In a way he recognised as being insane, it was almost like vocalising it would make it real. In another, far more realistic sense, he knew saying what was on his mind could only lead to two things. Best-case scenario, Jack found out about Ianto's feelings and took pity on him. Worst-case scenario, Jack found out about Ianto's fears, and confirmed them. It never occurred to Ianto that Jack might reciprocate, just as it never would have occurred to him that the sun might actually revolve around the Earth.

"It's nothing," Ianto said, without meeting Jack's eyes. "They're just remnants. Happens to everyone, I guess. It's really nothing."

If Jack had pressed it further, Ianto might have broken then. He might have told Jack everything he was feeling, everything he feared, and everything that came after might have been different. Whether Jack had embraced him, or pushed him away, the future might have turned out brighter for both of them. But Jack didn't press it. He rubbed Ianto's back lightly, and then pulled him back down on the bed, wrapping him in his arms.

"Okay," Jack said against his neck. "If you ever do want to tell me, I'm here."

Ianto made a noncommittal sound, pulled Jack closer and kissed him. It was like kissing stardust on the sun.


	6. I Do Not Hope To Turn Again

_**A.N: Still don't own anything. All rights belong to RTD and the BBC. I make no money, but I do live for reviews!**_

At the end of what would be called 'The Year That Never Was', but was, at the moment, 'The Year That Was Very Much Still Happening', Jack hadn't lost hope, but he knew everything else was lost. In the beginning, he'd been able to fantasize that his friends were still alive. If anyone would be able to make it out alive, surely those four could. Sometimes he'd think of all the things he wanted to tell them. When he was awake, he imagined telling Gwen he loved her. He imagined hearing her say it back. It was a paltry fantasy, but it got him by.

When he slept, or passed out, he would dream that Ianto was there, telling him to stay strong, telling him to come home. Sometimes, in his dreams, Ianto would say that he loved him, too. They were always nice, bittersweet dreams, because it was both what jack wanted, and what he knew would never happen. They'd had a fling, Jack out of loneliness and Ianto out of grief, but that was all there was. Even if Jack wanted there to be more, and sometimes he did, he didn't think it was what Ianto wanted. There was a hell of a difference between a relationship, and a few quick shags in your downtime, and Jack knew where he stood. Then, of course, there was Gwen. Jack loved Gwen. He loved Ianto too, he couldn't hide that from himself, but with Gwen, he saw something of a future. She wanted him the way he wanted her, and Jack wasn't sure the same could be said of Ianto.

Sometimes, at the beginning, he would imagine what life was like for them now. He would wonder if Gwen was still compassionate, if she was helping people through the bad times. He imagined that she was. He wondered if Rhys was still alive, and he hoped so. He wondered about Ianto, and he thought that he was probably the leader of a resistance movement, somewhere. Ianto wasn't the type to go gently into any good night. It hurt Jack to imagine him hardened and killing, surviving, but Jack knew that if he was alive, that was where he'd be. He wondered if Tosh was with him, if they'd ever gotten together as he'd once thought they should, and he was bitter as he hoped so. Jack wondered if Tosh was pulling through, and if Owen was holding up. He could imagine that they were.

That was at the beginning, when hope for such things didn't seem so foolish. By the time six months had gone by, Jack knew that there was little hope that any of them had survived. If someone had, he assumed it would have been Gwen. He still fantasized.

By the time the year was closing out, Jack had given up on all of them, except for brief flashes of hope so strong it felt like absolute knowledge that Ianto had survived. Gorgeous, mad, persistent Ianto. Maddening, vicious, unbreakable Ianto. Sweet, kind, beautiful Ianto. Perfect Ianto, who had always been a little hard, and who Jack knew could survive anything. If one of them had survived, Jack thought near the end, it would have been him.

More than likely, it was none of them. Jack knew that, but he didn't accept it. He couldn't if he wanted to make it out of this, with the Doctor, intact. If they were alive, Jack would go home to them, just as Ianto always beckoned him to, in his dreams. If they were alive, he would tell Gwen he loved her, and he would let Ianto go to make the kind of life for himself that he wanted. Marriage and kids, probably. A nice house, with a nice garden, and a nice wife who gave him nice children. Everything Ianto deserved, Jack aimed to see that he got it. If he was still alive, which Jack didn't really hope for anymore.

Near the end, he was saving all of his hope for Martha.


	7. Visions And Revisions

**Disclaimer: I don't own **_**Torchwood**_**, nor do I own the characters. All rights to everything **_**Doctor Who **_**or **_**Torchwood**_** related belongs to RTD and the BBC. I still make no profit. **

When Jack first got home, he was intent on doing all of the things he'd promised himself he'd do if he made it out alive. He was trepidatious at first – after all, he'd disappeared without even a letter, and his explanation was hard for even him to swallow- but the moment he saw his team, his apprehension turned immediately into relief. It didn't matter how angry they were, or even how hurt they were; all that mattered was that they _were_. Breathing, and working, and _alive._ After all those months spent in chains, with no real hope that he would ever lay eyes on them again, seeing them all together, his team, his friends, his loves; that sight alone was worth all the rage they could throw his way.

Gwen's punch didn't take him by surprise, and he supposed he deserved it, but Ianto's silence threw him off guard. Jack had always assumed that he was just a bit of solace for Ianto, someone he could go to when he didn't want to be alone, and that had always been fine with Jack. It _had_ been Ianto he'd dreamed of when locked in those chains, and it had been Ianto he'd yearned for near the end, but he'd always assumed that those were his feelings alone.

Ianto's hushed and formal reception of him said differently, it spoke volumes in its stillness, but Jack couldn't quite make out the vociferously unspoken words. Ianto was still an enigma to him; he kept his emotions tucked neatly away, and rarely showed them to anyone. Jack couldn't get a handle on him, and he wasn't sure if Ianto wanted him as a lover, or as a friend. He wasn't sure if Ianto slept with him out of desire, or duty. When it came to Ianto, Jack was always a bit confused, and never sure.

Gwen was a different story. She wore her heart on her sleeve, and it was no secret to anyone that she wanted Jack. It was obvious in her every glance, her every word, in every gesture she made in his direction. Her desire for him was loud like alarm bells, and Jack felt far more secure with that. He wasn't quite as intrigued, and he certainly wasn't as attached, but security rated higher on his list these days. After a year in hell, spent mostly by himself and his own tortured thoughts, Jack really didn't want to be alone. Gwen was a sure thing, Ianto was a wildcard, and it didn't really matter to Jack who he wanted _more_, since he wanted them both, in different ways. He just wished the sight of Gwen made his heart beat faster, like a glimpse of Ianto did. But, those things usually settled themselves in time, which he had a surplus of.

His mind made up, Jack approached Gwen to tell her what he'd promised himself he would. He never imagined that it wouldn't go as he'd planned; he never imagined that Gwen would be engaged. The look on her face, and the things she said, told him that he could still have her if he pushed it, but he wasn't overwhelmed with disappointment. He was overwhelmed with relief. Though he did love Gwen, it _had_ been Ianto that he'd yearned for. It was Ianto that seemed to live in his heart.

Jack was always one to take risks, but asking Ianto out seemed like a more terrifying idea than being locked in a room with a Dalek. He didn't think he could take being rejected twice in one night, especially not by Ianto. A large part of him wanted to keep Ianto as a fantasy that came to him in his most desperate times and dreams. Then, he ended up alone with the man, and he couldn't help himself. He _really_ didn't want to be alone, especially when Ianto was close enough that Jack could smell his aftershave. It might not have been 51st century pheromones, but it still sent shivers up his spine.

Jack's voice shook as he talked, and he found himself almost incoherent. He couldn't seem to force the actual words out of his mouth, just vague, almost gibberish – "you, me, dinner, a movie"- as though he was making a list of common nouns. Jack was used to being charming, charismatic and eloquent; they were his strengths, and he played to them well. It was manipulative, he knew, but being manipulative and just a little conniving were his survival skills. He wasn't used to foundering.

"You, me, dinner, a movie…"

"Are you asking me on date?" Ianto sounded flustered himself, and Jack found his confidence slightly renewed. He still couldn't imagine Ianto saying yes, and he had to double-check that he had.

A date. The line in the sand between a relationship, and just a couple of shags. It was proof that Ianto wanted him, desired him, and needed him, in the same way that Jack wanted, desired, and needed Ianto. It was proof that Ianto's silent admonishment had been 'Why did you leave _me_?' and not 'Why did you leave _us_?'

In a way, that was comforting to Jack, but it was also scary. Standing in that office Ianto's professional mask had slipped for a moment, just as it had in the bar, and there had been pain written on his face that Jack knew he would have to account for. Ianto all ready knew about his immortality, and the Doctor, but so much had happened to Jack while he'd been away, and Ianto deserved to know about it.

Jack wasn't exactly the same man he'd been when he'd left; he'd lived an entire year that Ianto would never remember, and if Jack wanted to make this work, he would have to be honest about what had happened in his reality. It sounded easy, but Jack's mind ached with the memory; he was sure his throat would choke on the words.

He didn't have to worry about it now though, because 'John", or whatever the hell he called himself, was back in his life, running one of his games, and that took precedence over everything. The faster John was out of their lives, the less damage he could do.

Satisfied that Ianto was quite possibly going to be a large part of his life, and determined to make sure John was absolutely not, Jack headed for the roof, to get this job done with as quickly as possible.

xxxXXXxxx

Things could have gone worse, but Jack wasn't sure how. After spending a year chained up and tortured by a madman, he'd hoped his first day at home would involve far more coffee and paperwork, and much less gratuitous violence. He'd also hoped for just one day when he didn't have to die in a gruesome manner, although the look on John's face had almost been worth it. Then, to top it all off: "I found Grey."

Three simple words that had ripped Jack to pieces; three little words that hurt so much it was almost unbearable. No matter how old Jack got, the grief stayed fresh. Everyday it felt new, and John had to be lying, because Jack wanted it to be true so badly.

"I found Grey. _I found Grey. _I. Found. Grey." The words echoed through Jack's mind like a broken record that he couldn't turn off. "I, I, I found Grey, Grey, Grey." It was enough to make Jack want to blow his own head off, except he knew he'd wake up with a pounding headache that came with it's own refrain.

What he needed was time to think, so he'd sent everyone home as soon as he could, and sat and brooded in the dark. He knew almost immediately that he'd made the wrong decision, but he was still pissed off when he heard the klaxon blare. It was just too presumptuous for someone to assume he needed help, so he automatically presumed the intruder was Gwen, as unfair and mean-spirited as that was.

Jack set his face into his most disapproving and annoyed expression, which softened only slightly when he saw Ianto walk through his office door.

"What are you doing here?" he asked. "I told everyone to go home."

"I was worried about you," Ianto said, folding his coat over a chair and sitting down. "You haven't seemed yourself since you got back. You've actually seemed _too much_ yourself, like you're trying to hide something. Sir – Jack… what happened to you while you were gone?"

Jack was slightly taken aback by the question, because it wasn't the one he'd expected. He'd been prepared for Ianto ask about Grey, but he instantly realised he should have known better. Ianto was a lot of things, and one of them was clever. He knew what had to be pushed, and what was better left alone.

"You were gone quite a while, Jack-" Ianto started in Jack's silence.

"Longer than you think," Jack cut in, and Ianto raised an eyebrow. "It was a year. I was gone a year."

Jack paused to let Ianto repudiate that claim, but Ianto just looked at him expectantly. Ianto _was_ clever, sometimes in ways he had no right to be, and he had faith in Jack. Not because Jack was charming and charismatic, and not because he was immortal and thus, somehow, expected to know everything, but, Jack realised, because Ianto saw him as a man, a good and honourable and ordinary man that had been though extraordinary things. Ianto wasn't in awe of him like everybody else; Ianto _respected_ him, which Jack hadn't had in so long, he hadn't even been aware that he was missing it.

If there was just one moment when Jack knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Ianto owned his heart, that was it, so Jack said, "It was a year in my timeline, and I was in hell. I lost count of how many times I died. It started when I found the Doctor…"

Jack talked for nearly three hours, and Ianto listened in that way Jack loved, where you could tell he was really hearing everything you were saying. Somewhere in there, Jack recognised the unidentifiable feeling he'd had watching Ianto listen to Tosh was jealousy, but the way Ianto was looking at him, and lightly brushing their hands together, told him he had nothing to worry about.

When Jack was finished, at well past midnight, Ianto had tears in his eyes. "I'm so sorry," was all he said, and then he brushed his thumb across Jack's cheek. It came away wet, and Jack realised he was crying as well, but he wasn't embarrassed. For the first time in recent memory, he actually felt close to someone, and that felt amazing.

Ianto slid his hand around Jack's neck, and kissed him gently. Jack kissed him back, and had his final realisation of the night: kissing Ianto was more peaceful than dieing.

**FIN**

_**Special Author's Note**_**: I've realised I can keep this fic going for quite a long time, and whilst I have many ideas, and a planned out story arc, I've decided to take requests. If there is a 'missing scene', or a general idea you'd like to see included here, leave it in the reviews, and if I can make it fit into the story, I'll write it in. Just my way of saying 'thank you' to everyone who has reviewed, alerted, etc. I hope you've enjoyed it thus far. - Amberssister**


	8. Here We Go Round The Prickly Pear

_**A.N.: I'd like to give a special shout out and a huge thank you to**_** DeliaDee**_** and**_** workingsomecoffeemagic **_**for their consistent and wonderful reviews, and for the faith they've expressed in this story. Thanks guys! **_

**Disclaimer: I STILL don't own **_**Torchwood,**_** despite my wishes. All rights belong to RTD and the BBC. I make no money, despite my wishes, and I mean no harm. **

"Jack? Can I speak to you for a minute?"

Jack looked up from his desk, mildly surprised to hear Owen's voice. They'd all had a tough day the day before, and almost everyone had gone home early. If Owen felt the need to come in at half past five the next morning for a private chat, it must be important. Jack put his paperwork aside and mentally prepared himself for bad news.

"Sure" he said, "What's up?"

"It's nothing big. I just- do you remember when I did the last physicals on the team?"

Jack nodded and folded his arms across his chest. "Yes. You said everyone was in good shape. Was there something you forgot to tell me?"

Owen looked as if he didn't know how to answer, or as if he didn't want to. His eyes scanned the ceiling for a moment, then the floor, before finally coming back to Jack.

"No. Nothing I _forgot_. There's just something I think you need to know. About Ianto."

Jack stood and walked around the desk so he could meet Owen eye to eye.

"What about Ianto? Is he sick?"

Owen shrugged and said, "Depends on your definition. Physically he's fine, Jack. Probably the best fit of all of us. You do realize he's mentally a little…?"

Jack scoffed. "There's nothing wrong with Ianto's head. He's no more screwed up than the rest of us."

"That's probably true. We're all a little fucked up. But, Ianto's been through a lot. Canary Wharf, his cyber-freak of a girlfriend, just day-to-day life working here. He's dealing with it well, considering, but Jack, he had a complete breakdown not to long ago. He could have gotten himself killed, not to mention, and I _cannot_ put to fine a point on this, the rest of us. Am I getting through to you at all?"

Jack was silent a moment, eyes narrowed and lips tightly drawn.

"What are you saying, you want me to fire him? You don't want to work around him? Is that the point of this?"

Owen threw his hands in the air and let out an exasperated sigh. "No, Jack. If I was afraid of the tea-boy, or if I wanted you to fire him, I would have mentioned it after he shot me. I just want you to understand. As a doctor, I don't feel Ianto should be put under any unnecessary mental stress. None of us should be, but _especially_ not him. Don't get me wrong; with what he's been through, a lesser man would be in a nuthouse. Ianto's not unfit for work, and I think he's actually healing. But, he shouldn't be put under unnecessary stress. As a doctor, I feel it would be detrimental to his health, and as a person, I think it's goddamned unfair."

Jack tilted his head and looked at Owen quizzically.

"I agree with you," he said. "I do, but what's with this sudden concern for Ianto? I was under the impression that there was no love lost between you two."

Owen rolled his eyes, eerily reminding Jack of the man under discussion.

"We really are like a family, Jack. I don't have to like any of you, but I _do_ care about all of you, more or less. When you left it put Ianto through hell. You mean something to him, he needs you. He relies on his work and on us, but he relies on nothing more than he relies on you. I'm not a therapist, Jack, but that boy is suffering from traumatic stress at least, maybe even posttraumatic, and he needs something stable. If that's not gonna be you, if you're gonna take off again, you need to let him know. Because if you hurt him again, and he has another breakdown, and if I survive it, you will be dealing with the consequences."

"Did you just threaten me?"

"Not that it'll do any good, but yeah. Now that you're back, everything seems to be getting back to normal. That's good for all of us. Don't fuck it up, okay?"

Jack took a step forward and looked Owen in the eye.

"I chose to come back," he said, through gritted teeth, "and I don't intend to leave again. I'm here for the duration, and what goes on between Ianto and me is between Ianto and me. But, thank you for looking after him. It's good to know you all looked after each other while I was away."

"We didn't fall apart without you. It's good to have you back, all the same. Just keep in mind what I told you, alright?"

"Yeah, I'll do that. You should get to work. We have a lot to do today."

"Yeah. Okay, Jack." Owen turned and started for the door. He paused in the doorway, and turned back to Jack.

"I think he loves you. That's not a professional opinion; a stranger could see it. I'm not sure if that makes him very sad, or if it makes you very lucky. Probably both."

He disappeared out the door, and Jack was left staring at the empty space he'd been in. Jack sat down and scrubbed his hands over his face. It was already turning out to be a very bad day. Having Owen of all people preach at him was aggravating and kind of scary.

Jack jumped when a hand touched his back, and he smiled wanly when he saw Ianto standing beside him, hair tousled and shirtless.

"How much of that did you hear?" Jack asked.

"Almost all of it, I think. I came in around the part where I had a breakdown and almost got everybody killed."

Jack sighed and ran his hands through his hair. "I'm sorry, Ianto. If I'd known he was going to… I should have told him you were here. I thought you were asleep."

"I was, but I tend to wake up when people are having serious discussions about my mental health. So…"

"So?"

"Well, it's the elephant in the room, isn't it? The last thing he said. Jack, I-"

"Ianto, don't. Don't say anything. Owen shouldn't have, and you don't have to. Lets just pretend this whole thing never happened, okay?"

"Absolutely. I need a shower, are you all right, or would you like some coffee first?"

"That's okay. Take your shower. Ianto? Are you going to mention this to Owen?"

"I can't see one possible scenario in which that ends well. I'm not unstable, Jack."

"I know. I agree with him that we should all try to avoid stress. I'm sorry if I put you through hell-"

"Jack it's fine. I'm fine. Let's forget about it."

The look in Ianto's eyes told Jack a different story, but he didn't call him back as Ianto headed for the showers. Jack knew that he loved Ianto, and he was almost sure that Ianto loved him, but the words weren't something either of them had ever said. Jack wasn't sure they would ever be said, and that didn't bother him. It was enough to just know the truth of it. At least, it was enough to believe in the truth he wanted.

Ianto was still hard to pin down. Sometimes he acted so comfortable with Jack it was like they were made to fit, no matter how many centuries apart they were, but other times he was so distant those centuries showed. It drove Jack mad, but he never mentioned it. Much like love, distance was something they never spoke about, because there was every chance that it would just hurt less that way.

XxxXXXxxx

"Jacks acting weird around you today," Gwen said later, cornering Owen on the stairs to the autopsy bay. "You two have a row?"

"No.," Owen said, trying to move past her. "Don't know what you're talking about."

"He seems rather angry with you," Gwen pushed, firmly holding her place.

"Really? I hadn't noticed."

"Come on. Did you guys have a fight this morning? Did you walk in on him and Ianto?"

"Please, Gwen," Owen said with a disgusted look. "I haven't ripped my eyes out so, no. Ianto wasn't even here when I got in."

"Oh? I thought he might have slept here. He's wearing the extra set of clothes he keeps here, and his hair was wet when I came in. He does stay here sometimes."

Owen's eyes widened, and an expression that might have been fear flitted across his face before he disguised it with more disgust.

"Oh hell," he said. "I didn't know that, and I really didn't want to. Now I have really bad images in my head of stuff on the desks. Thanks so much, Gwen."

He pushed past her roughly, leaving Gwen to wonder just what the hell she'd missed that morning.

xxxXXXxx

Owen knew he couldn't avoid Ianto for the rest of his life, and he figured the sooner things cleared up between them, the sooner they could all get back to normal. Their version of normal, anyhow.

He waited until Ianto brought him his afternoon cuppa, and he was surprised at how professional he acted, just business as usual. Owen almost decided that Ianto must not be aware of his conversation with Jack, but then he realised he was being thick. This was Ianto, after all; Owen should have no reasonable expectation that he would act anything other than professional.

"Ianto," he said, catching the tea-boy's arm, "did you hear my conversation with Jack this morning?"

"Yes, I did," Ianto replied in a cool voice. "I think it's best left forgotten."

"I didn't mean to say you were a nutter or anything. I just think you need to be treated with a little more… Shit, I don't know. I was trying to look out for you."

"I'm not an invalid, Owen," Ianto said, his voice now tinged with anger. "I don't need special treatment, and I don't need you 'looking out for me.'"

"Well, someone has to; you don't look after yourself."

"Don't you dare lecture me. You have no idea what you're talking about, so just keep your mouth shut."

"You barely ate," Owen said, and he was shouting now, "you never slept, you started coming in hung over more often than not, and I don't know if you get this, but I am a _doctor!_ It's my fucking job to look after you, especially when you aren't capable of doing it your bleeding self!"

Ianto dropped the empty coffee tray on Owen's desk and squared his shoulders. Owen had never seen him look angrier, even when Ianto had shot him, and this looked very much like a fight waiting to happen. Part of Owen was glad of that, because they still had some bullet-shaped issues that needed sorting out.

Owen clenched his fists, and started to roll his shoulder back, when he suddenly felt hands like iron gripping his wrists.

"Putting one finger on him would be the biggest mistake of your life," Jack said in his ear. "And I never want to hear you speak to him that way again. Whatever happened between you two is over now, and Ianto is off-limits from now on. If you have a problem with him, you take it up with me. Are we clear?"

Owen nodded, and Jack let go of his arms.

"Good," Jack said. "I like it when my team gets along. Just remember: Ianto isn't your concern."

"Yeah, he is," Owen said, defiantly. "I'm his doctor, Jack. Show me your degree, and I'll let you take care of him, gladly. Until then, he's my patient."

"Fine," Jack said, "but if you ever talk to him like that, or raise your hand to him, _you'll_ need a doctor."

xxxXXXxxx

Later, after everyone else had gone home, Ianto brought Jack a cup of tea, and then sat on the edge of his desk.

"I don't need you to protect me," he said, holding Jack's gaze. "I can handle Owen on my own."

"Sure," Jack said, dropping his eyes. "But… Owen can be an ass, sometimes. I don't like hearing him talk about you like that. He doesn't know you."

"And you think you do?" Ianto said dropping his eyes.

"Better than most people. Don't I?"

Ianto nodded, but still wouldn't meet Jack's eyes. They sat in silence for a long while, as Ianto studied the carpet, and Jack let his tea go cold.

"It's getting late," Ianto finally said, and moved towards the door. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Jack had a million things he wanted to say, but none of them felt right in that moment. He watched as Ianto left the building with his head hung low, and he wondered how many secrets the boy was keeping behind his beautiful, haunted eyes.

**FIN**

**Leave me a review if you like (I really won't object), and I hope you enjoyed this!**


	9. Hurry Up Please It's Time

_Disclaimer: I don't own _Torchwood. _All rights belong to RTD and the BBC. I make no profit._

The sunlight on the bed was warm and Ianto rolled towards it. He threw the blankets off and lie relaxing in the warmth for the brief few moments he had before opening his eyes.

"Hey," He heard, and a smile crossed his lips. It was rare for him to actually spend a night in his own bed, and it was rarer for Jack to spend it with him. They usually spent their off hours at the hub, in Jack's small, cave-like room that actually felt more like home to Ianto than his flat did.

"Hey," he said opening his eyes. "What are you doing?"

Jack shrugged and trailed his fingers through Ianto's hair. "Just watching you sleep."

"What, all night?"

"Well, the rift alarm never went off, Gwen didn't call with some emergency, the world, indeed, did not end. So, I got to stay here and watch you sleep."

"Jack, that sounds… very boring."

"Nope. Best night I've had in a long time."

"Really?" Ianto said, with a cheeky grin, "How about getting a jump start on the morning?"

xxxXXXxxx

Jack was humming to himself as he dressed, something he rarely did, and would have been mortified to be caught out at. He was happy though, truly happy for the first time in a long, long while, and the sound of Ianto's shower running covered the sound anyway.

It almost covered the sound of his mobile ringing, and, looking at the time, he wished it had. It was almost 9 o'clock, the latest he'd ever been getting back to the hub, so disaster had assuredly stuck.

"Hello?" he said, flipping it open without looking at the ID.

"Jack, I would've waited until I saw you, but I'm at the hub, and you aren't, and Rhys needs to know if you're coming," Gwen said, sounding far more frantic than she would have if the call had actually involved disaster.

"Just did," Jack, partly because he couldn't help himself, and partly to break the tension in her voice.

"Jack, _please_."

"Coming where, Gwen?"

"To our house tonight, for the engagement party? Rhys is having some people over from his work. I asked you a _week_ ago. I don't know any of these people, and I really wanted you guys there. You said you'd have to see, and Ianto said the same, and I figured you had to see each other and ask. Owen's already said no, and Tosh said yes. Are you two coming, or not?"

"Yes, of course," Jack said, trying to sound as if he knew exactly what she was talking about, "barring any incidents. Count us in."

"Are you sure about Ianto? Have you asked him?"

"He's sitting right here," which wasn't technically a lie, since he'd just walk into the room, and was giving Jack a quizzical look. "Gwen, we'll be at the hub in half an hour. If anything comes up you'll be the first to know."

"What was that about?" Ianto asked, when he'd hung up.

"The party at Gwen's house," Jack said, pulling on his braces. "Do you remember hearing about that?"

"Vaguely. When is it?"

"Tonight."

"You told her we were coming?" Ianto said, slightly admonishingly.

"Me?" Jack said, with his best smile. "Miss a party? It'll be fun. After some of the stuff we've been through this year we _deserve_ some fun. Did you put coffee on?"

"Me? Forget the coffee? There's cream in the 'fridge, and drink it fast. We're already late."

"Your fault."

"I know."

xxxXXXxxx

The day went as smoothly as anyone at Torchwood could hope for, nothing huge or world ending happened, and so Ianto found himself in Gwen's small flat, nursing a glass of wine and trying to stay out of the way. He knew no one there, except for his co-workers. Gwen was busy entertaining her other guests, some bloke was chatting up Tosh, and Jack was swanning about, being Jack. Ianto bet he already knew everyone's names, and probably half their numbers, and then he chided himself for the thought. There was no use making a bad situation worse by brooding over what exactly Jack did when they weren't together.

Still, he could kill Jack for getting him into this situation. Ianto hated large groups of people, he hated crowds, and Jack should know that. Jack should know him well enough not to make promises on his behalf – again, Ianto cut the thought off before it could start eating at him. Thinking about all of the things Jack _should_ know reminded him of all of the things Jack _didn't_ know, and that was another line of thought he didn't want to pursue. It was always there, all the things he knew he needed to confess, but he was always able to push it away.

There was something inside of him, some vicious, murderous bastard that lived in his head, and it hated him. It always managed to convince him that Jack wouldn't love him if he really knew who and what Ianto was; it always managed to convince him that Jack didn't love him at all. That Jack would rather be with _her._

Ianto sighed, and killed off his wine in one large gulp. This was going to be a terrible night.

xxxXXXxxx

Jack was actually having a good time, until he ended up in the same corner as Rhys, who seemed just as pleased with the situation, but was trying amicably not to fight, probably for Gwen's sake. He was actually trying to make small talk, which was something Jack knew he couldn't do without starting a fight.

Jack looked around for Ianto, for an excuse to leave without seeming rude, and he saw that he was predictably in the kitchen, wedged in a corner, trying to ignore the very fact of the party around him. Jack had known that that would probably be how things went, but he'd hoped Ianto would come out of his shell a bit, at least for one night. He looked so uncomfortable, and so out of place in his immaculate three-piece suit amidst all the happy, mingling people in jeans.

Rhys followed his gaze, and said, "So… Gwen tells me you and Ianto are an item now."

"Uh-huh," Jack said, not really focused on Rhys anymore.

"Not much of a people-person, is he?" Rhys said, and then, quickly, "Seems like a nice enough bloke, though."

"He is," Jack said, a bit icily, "he's perfect. He cooks, he cleans, he kills things. He's great."

"Seems like. Does he _always_ dress like that?"

"Yeah. Well, except when he isn't dressed. It works for him," Jack replied, icier still.

"So. It's pretty serious with you two, yeah?"

Jack was silent for a moment, and the said, "Serious enough I'm going to get him out of here. Congratulations. See you at the wedding."

He walked away, and when he told Ianto to get his coat, the look that crossed the younger man's face couldn't have been more relieved if Jack had just saved him from a horde of zombies.

xxxXXXxxx

Two weeks later, Ianto was lying in Jack's bed (which he refused to think of as _their_ bed, no matter how much the word tried to creep into his thoughts), thinking about Gwen's wedding as Jack made them coffee. It was rare and sweet for Jack to offer to do that kind of work, and it had been happening more and more often since the wedding. Ianto didn't know how to feel about that.

On the one hand, it felt as though Jack were trying to make up for something, as if he was overcompensating for the fact that Gwen was now well and truly spoken for. On the other hand, it also felt like Jack was finally _his_ in a way he hadn't been before. Ianto hated having these thoughts; he hated _himself_ for having these thoughts.

But, the vicious, murderous bastard was still in his head, still telling him that Jack wouldn't want him if he had the slightest chance at _her_, or if he really knew about _him._ In a way, Owen had been right all those months ago, when he'd basically called him mental. There were always thoughts in Ianto's head that he couldn't shut up, obsessive, never-ending thoughts that drove him mad. The thing inside of his head that hated him, and wanted him to suffer; the killer in his brain that wouldn't allow him to tell Jack the truth. It was _that_ part of him that Ianto _really_ hated.

"You like sugar, right?" Jack yelled down from were he was almost assuredly making a mess of things.

"Yep," Ianto called back, and almost burst into tears. For God's sake, the man whose bed he was currently naked in was making him coffee, even knew how he took it, and Ianto was picking it apart, trying to find the thread that would unravel it all, because some part of him didn't feel he deserved something as simple as a cup of coffee he didn't have to make himself.

It was then he realised for the first time that, if there was a loose thread in all of this, it was he. It was his inability to be honest and open; it was the fact that he was frozen still, whilst trying to move forward at a rocket pace. It was the killer in his head, and suddenly Ianto was just so tired of it.

He composed himself, and when Jack brought the coffee down, he set it aside and sat up in the bed, the sheets pooled around his waist. If he was _ever_ going to tell Jack the truth, it was now time.

xxxXXXxxx

"I lied to you," Ianto said calmly, as if he were giving Jack the time. It was late, and they were both exhausted, so it took Jack a moment to register what he'd just heard. When it clicked, he knew he had to proceed with caution. 'I lied to you' could mean anything coming from Ianto.

The boy had a well-earned guilt complex, and it could be something as simple as substituting Splenda for sugar in Jack's coffee, but it could be so much more; it could be so much worse. It could be something dangerous, and, oddly, Jack's first instinct was to proceed with care so that he could protect Ianto from any fallout.

"About what? Jack asked, as he slipped into bed beside him, his own coffee forgotten.

"About my father," Ianto replied, avoiding eye contact. "About what he did, who he was."

"Why?"

"Because I'm a liar, Jack. Everything about me, the way I dress, the way I speak, how I act, none of it's true. It's all a lie, it's not where I come from."

"Okay," Jack said, "Where _do _you come from?"

"I grew up on an estate. My father wasn't a tailor; he wasn't much of anything. We were very poor, and I was never proud," he stopped and hitched in a breath, then looked Jack fiercely in the eye.

"I never had much reason to be," he continued," until I met her. Until I met Lisa. She loved me for who I am, for who I _really_ am. No one else had ever…"

There were tears in his eyes, and Jack felt the all-too familiar feeling of his heart breaking for the man. He'd survived so much, he'd done so many laudable things, and Jack could see that Ianto _still_ didn't think he was good enough.

"Do you really think I don't know who you are?" Jack asked, quietly. "I know you. You're brave, and you're noble, and you're gentle. You speak the way you do because you _hate _it when people don't speak properly, because you're very clever, and you're better than that. You're uncomfortable around people because you're afraid that you're not good enough. You are _so much better_ than you think you are. Ianto… if you knew everything about my past, you'd understand that I am the _last_ person to judge you based on where you come from, or the things you've done. But, I do know who you are, at your core, and that's good enough for me. You don't have to lie to me. I don't care. I care about you."

It was the closest Jack could bring himself to saying _I love you_, even now, but he hoped that Ianto understood it anyway.

Ianto stayed quiet for a bit, and then he said, "Thank you, Jack. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Jack said, pulling Ianto down and into his arms. "If you need someone to talk to about anything, I'm here. You know that."

"Yeah," Ianto said, and then he was quiet for long enough Jack thought he'd fallen asleep. He was drifting off himself when Ianto said, "Jack? Will you tell me about your past one day?"

"Yes," Jack replied hoarsely, "someday. It's a lot of past, Ianto. It'll take a lot of time."

Ianto nodded into his chest, and now it was Jack who hated himself. He hated lying to Ianto, and he hated making promises he knew he couldn't keep. Telling about his past _would_ take a lot of time, and he knew that, for some things, that time would never come.

There were some thing's a man always has to take to his grave, and since Jack knew he would never _have_ a grave, he just kept them locked tightly inside of his heart.


	10. Spread Out Against The Sky

_Disclaimer: I do not own _Torchwood. _All rights belong to RTD and the BBC. I make no money. _

"Jack?" Ianto said his quietly, hesitantly, almost as if he hoped he wouldn't be heard. It was the way Ianto always started conversations when he had a question or an observation that wasn't work related. Jack rolled over on his side and propped himself up on his elbow.

Ianto fidgeted under his gaze, fingers playing over the top of the grass they were lying on, and Jack wondered what was coming. It was rare for Ianto to ask things of him. He usually waited for Jack to tell him on his own, listening attentively and eagerly whenever a small piece of Jack was revealed, but never pressing for details. If patience was truly a virtue, then Ianto was one hell of a virtuous man. It was one of the things Jack liked most about him.

Still, sometimes, there were those questions that had to be asked, that must be answered. Those times were always awkward, and sometimes painful. Jack watched as Ianto squirmed, and he poked him gently, saying, "What is it? Come on, spit it out."

Patience was something Jack respected, because it was something he possessed little of himself. Ianto sighed and averted his eyes.

"Do you ever look at the stars, and think about…I don't know…what you could have out there? What you could have if you weren't here?"

Jack took a deep breath, and thought before answering. He knew Ianto wasn't looking for lip service, or sweet talk. When Ianto asked things like this, he wanted answers. He asked because he wanted to know, and Jack always tried to be honest.

The trouble with this question was that he didn't know the answer himself. They'd been out walking, just spending time outside of their lives, and they'd ended up in a park, quietly watching the stars. There wasn't much Jack wouldn't give for a little quiet in his life, and in his mind. Ianto was a reservoir of it. Sometimes, when they were together, Jack felt like he was drowning in it, and he didn't mind it at all.

Then, Ianto would speak, and, no matter how quietly he'd spoken, things would become deafening. It was mostly because Jack never expected the things Ianto asked of him, and he had to stop his mouth from telling the easy and natural lie, and actually think about the reality of the thing.

Jack knew he had a habit of speaking when he didn't have much to say, just as he knew that there were some things that made much better secrets than truths, but when it came to Ianto, Jack always tried. He didn't always succeed, but he tried.

"Sometimes," he said, slowly, "sometimes I look at the stars, and I think about everything I _used_ to have, and all the lives I've lived, but I don't know if I really miss it. I miss some of the people I've known, but I… I know what's up there, and I know what's down here, and I don't really see much of a difference. I've never really thought about it. Why?"

"Oh, I dunno," Ianto said, turning over on his back, "it's just that, I know that there's other stuff out there, you know? Other planets, and people, and all the things I've seen, but it all looks so _small_ from down here. Just these tiny little points of light… sometimes I imagine other people, out there, looking back at us and I think of how small we must look to them. I wonder how small we must look to anyone who's seen it all, you know?"

He said this lightly, but Jack knew what he meant.

"Nothing ever looks small to anyone who has ever seen how large it all is," he said, just as lightly. "Once you've been out there, you realise just how important every little thing is. Every person. Nothing is ever small again. Do you ever wish you could see it?" It was just as rare for him to ask questions as it was for Ianto, but Jack suspected that he had just as many as his partner.

"I suppose not," Ianto said, half-smiling. "Of all the worlds you could've ended up on, in all the times, and all the jobs you could have chosen, you ended up here, on the grass, with me." He pulled out a plug of the grass and let it slowly fall through his fingers.

"This," he said, sitting up, "feels very large to me. Every blade of it. Very large, and important, and real."

Ianto grabbed Jack's hand and pulled him up, so that they were sitting facing each other.

"And so does this," he continued, still holding Jack's hand. "I know where you've been, and what you've seen, and I don't really understand why, or how, or even who you really are, but I don't care. I look at you, and I see the whole universe in your eyes, and it scares me. I -"

Ianto cut himself off and dropped Jack's hand, shifting his gaze to the ground.

"Finish that sentence," Jack said, only not demanding it with his tone. His body was tight and aching with the need to know what was going to come after that _'I_'. His mind was speeding, knowing that Ianto was the opposite of him in so many ways, that he could say so much with so few words, but also knowing that he rarely did.

When it came to this, to them, the quiet was deep and dark, and it was the one silence Jack couldn't bear. If it was to be broken, though, Jack knew it would have to be Ianto, because it could never be him.

"Nothing," Ianto said, dusting his hands, watching as the wind whipped stray blades of grass away from him. "Let's get back; it's late."

"Okay," Jack said, and Ianto must have heard an off note in his voice, because he paused halfway to standing, and then sat back on the ground. He looked at Jack and smiled.

"You're filled with so much time," he said. "I remember when you spoke of life as a straight line from birth to death, and I remember thinking that your line just keeps going, forever. That doesn't scare me, Jack. But all of that _space_… still, you could go anywhere, do _anything_, but you're here on the grass with me."

Ianto sighed, and kissed Jack then, putting everything he would never say into it, and Jack felt like he was drowning again, but he still didn't mind it.

"Let's go home," Ianto said, when they'd broken apart. "I think I've had enough of the stars."

"Me too," Jack replied, "definitely."

xxxXXXxxx

Later, as Jack was showering, it suddenly hit him that Ianto had referred to the hub as 'home', and he had no idea what that meant. It certainly hadn't ever felt like much of a home to Jack, but when Ianto was there, it was different. It felt warmer, and larger somehow, even though the gradual addition of most of Ianto's considerable wardrobe, and various other personal items, had filled Jack's small room to almost overflowing.

Now that he thought about it, there really wasn't any of Jack's personal space that didn't contain some bit of Ianto. Even in the shower, Ianto's shampoo and toothbrush had their place next to Jack's own. Ianto's clothes were not only in his closet, they'd _usurped_ his closet, and Jack had even taken to wearing bits and pieces of Ianto's things, almost every day. He couldn't remember how long it had been like that, but it felt nice. It felt right, and that felt terrifying.

Thinking about what Ianto had asked of him, Jack realised that he wasn't sure if he could imagine standing on a world that didn't have Ianto in it. Even if he could, he didn't want to, just as he didn't want to imagine his room devoid of Ianto's presence.

'Home' had never meant much to Jack; he'd fled his so long ago, he couldn't remember what it had been like. He'd always been a travelling man, and when he'd loved (as he had so many people), it had always been large, but isolated and cold. That was the way it had to be, but not the way it was anymore. Ianto had slipped inside his walls; the guard at the watchtower had been caught off guard, probably because Jack was never expecting Ianto. Not the things he said, not the things he did, and certainly not the way he made Jack ache for him to speak.

The guard at the watchtower had been caught off-guard, and now Jack was drowning happily inside of Ianto's peace, and he wouldn't have it any other way. Even if he could go back and change it, there was no way he ever would, and that was the scariest part of all.

Jack turned the shower off, dried quickly, and tried not to think of any of it. When he got back to the room, and saw Ianto sleeping in what Jack would quite happily call 'their' bed, it didn't matter anyway. He slipped easily inside of Ianto's calm, and fell asleep without worrying about what tomorrow would bring.


	11. The Things To Be Said, Or Left Unsaid

AN: This is a slightly lighter, fluffier piece, as per request. It's also slightly long, to make up for the long delay between chapters. Hope you enjoy it! Please leave a review, if you are so inclined.

Disclaimer: All rights to "Torchwood" and it's characters belong to RTD and the BBC. I make no money, and mean no harm.

The phone had been ringing ceaselessly for ten minutes before Jack reached out to answer it and knocked the lamp off the table. The crash it made hitting the ground, coupled with the still ringing phone, were enough to send Ianto shooting off the bed and reaching for the pistol he kept in the drawer. Pistol in hand and still half asleep, he looked around fruitlessly for the invader.

"It was just a lamp," Jack said, hands held out in front of him. "I'll replace it. Don't shoot."

Ianto lowered the gun, and voice shaking, asked, "What the hell is going on?"

Jack shrugged. "Phones been going nuts for about a quarter of an hour. I was reaching for it and I knocked your lamp over." He gave Ianto a sheepish grin. Ianto stared at him for a moment, then at the phone, then back to Jack. Jack gave him a puzzled look in return.

"It's still ringing, Jack. Were you going to answer it?"

"It's your phone. Why don't you have a machine?"

"Because no one has that number. Except Torchwood, and you lot always call my mobile. It's still ringing, Jack. And it's on your side."

Jack sighed and grabbed the phone. "Yes?" he said, not even trying to hide the irritation in his voice.

"Jack? Is that you?" Jack frowned and mouthed _Owen_ in Ianto's direction.

"Yes, it's me. What's up?" There was a beat of silence on the other end, and then Owen cleared his throat.

"Well," he said, finally, "I was calling for Ianto. Is he around?"

"He's sleeping," Jack said "Is there a reason you're calling him at this hour?"

"No, Jack, I wanted to ask him if his refrigerator was running. Is there a reason you're answering his phone? Forget that, I don't want to know. I'm standing outside his flat and it's bloody freezing out here. Let me in."

Jack's brow furrowed, and he gave Ianto a 'what the hell' look.

"Why are you here?" he asked, and Owen snorted.

"I had to put four stitches in his scalp tonight. I've been ringing his mobile for over an hour. When he didn't answer I got worried. Thought he might have slipped into a coma. If I'd known he wasn't alone, I wouldn't have bothered. Seeing as I've come all this way, I'd still like to check him over. Let me in, Jack."

Jack hung up and told Ianto what was going on.

"He wanted me to go back to his," Ianto said, "but I told him I'd be all right. I didn't realise he'd get so worked up over it."

"Well, he is a doctor. I suppose we'd better let him in; I don't think he's going away."

Ianto nodded, already heading for the door. Jack was grateful that they were both dressed. He could just imagine Ianto trying to put trousers on while rushing for the door, falling and re-opening the wound on his scalp. Owen would have laughed heartily while re-stitching it, but Jack would've received a stern and angry lecture after Ianto fell asleep.

It was weird, but Owen had taken to lecturing Jack a lot these days, about Ianto, and more specifically, about all the things Jack did that Owen felt were bad for the young man's health. In the past month they'd been through the 'You have to let him sleep, at least four hours' lecture, the 'Make sure he eats at some point, he's already lost too much weight' address, and, Jack's personal favourite, the 'If you plan to leave again, please drop Ianto a note, or take him with you' sermon. That one had gone on for over an hour, and there was something about Owen's newfound proclivity for preaching at him that unsettled Jack.

Jack settled himself on the sofa, listening as Ianto tried to get rid of Owen at the door.

"Nice try," he heard Owen say, "but I'm not leaving until you get looked over. Came all this way, at two a.m.; I'm not gonna waste that much time. Into the kitchen with you." Owen led the way, cutting across the living room and giving Jack a slight nod of greeting.

There was a slight look of disdain on the medic's face, as if it were Jack's fault that Ianto was hurt. In reality, Jack hadn't even been there when Ianto had sustained the injury, which was actually _Owen's_ fault, if they were going to be throwing around blame.

"Touch my finger, and then your nose," Owen was saying, putting Ianto through the very same tests he'd put him through at the hub.

"Good," Owen said, when Ianto had easily complied. "Now smile. Good. Who's the Prime Minister? What's today's date? Spell your middle name." The questions seemed almost endless to Jack, and he could tell that Ianto felt the same way. It had only been some stitches; it wasn't as if Ianto had cracked his skull open.

That didn't seem to matter to Owen, though, and he continued asking trivial questions, and forcing Ianto to perform ridiculous tasks, ostensibly to check his motor skills. It seemed to Jack, as it was quickly approaching the hour mark of this impromptu exam, that Owen was being purposely tiresome.

It was almost another hour yet before Owen left. He gave Ianto a clean bill of health, except for the head wound, and then left with the air of a man who'd just did someone a huge favour, even though Ianto's newest collection of stitches were technically Owen's doing, in more ways than one.

That thought gave Jack a nagging feeling that he'd forgotten something, but he was too tired to worry about it right then. If it were important he figured it would come back to him eventually.

Yawning, he pulled Ianto back to the bedroom, and fell asleep almost instantly.

xxxXXXxxx

When Tosh arrived to work the next morning, the first thing she noticed was that Ianto was dress oddly. Not oddly for most people, granted, but one had to judge Ianto on a different scale. The outfit he'd shown up for work in was the equivalent any normal secretary showing up in a burlap sack, with a shoebox on his head.

Ianto was wearing jeans. And a tee shirt. And sneakers. And a cap, an actual ball cap, which was thankfully not backwards.

"What?" he asked tightly, when he caught Tosh staring at him.

"You," Tosh almost stammered, "you're wearing-"

"Clothing. Normal clothing, of the kind men wear everyday. It isn't a big deal, let's move on."

He headed for the coffee machine, and started preparing cups, as if nothing in the world were off kilter. Tosh started to follow him, remembered the look that had been on his face, and walked to her desk. The curiosity was killing her, but she decided to let somebody else take the fallout of asking. Because Gwen would almost certainly ask, and if she didn't, Owen was a sure bet.

When Gwen arrived Ianto handed her a cup of coffee, and walked away without a word. Gwen raised her eyebrows, and Tosh shrugged and shook her head as if to say, 'I haven't the slightest, and I am not asking'.

xxxXXXxxx

"Oi!" Owen yelled when he finally made it into the hub "Was there a costume party I forgot about? Why are you dressed like that?"

"Ask Jack," Ianto said, almost slamming a coffee cup into Owen's hand. "Ask Jack why I'm dressed like this."

"Harkness!" Owen yelled, not bothering to move. Jack popped his head out of his office, looking slightly apprehensive.

"Why have you got Ianto dressed up like a real boy?"

"Look," Jack said, almost sheepishly, "I forgot to pick up his dry-cleaning, okay?"

"You pick up his dry-cleaning? I thought he was your slave."

"He's not a slave. And, no I don't usually do his laundry, but after you hit him in the head with your gun-butt yesterday, I took him home and told him I'd pick up the dry-cleaning on my way back from the hub. And I forgot, but you were the one that knocked him out, so this is technically your fault."

"That was an accident!" Owen yelled, clearly seeing the bus Jack was trying to throw him under. "I had no idea he was standing right behind me."

"Oh, I'm sure," Jack said. "How is it that it's only Ianto that you accidentally hurt? Last week you tripped and spilled hot coffee on him, a month ago you punched him in the face. How was punching him in the face an accident again?"

"We were chasing an alien, and it was dark. And why is this suddenly about me? You're just trying to get him pissed at me, so he won't remember to be pissed at you."

"No, I honestly feel that this is your fault. If you would stop subconsciously attacking Ianto, this never would have happened."

"Subconsciously attacking Ianto?" Owen said slowly, the proverbial bus close enough he could feel the wind. "Have you lost it completely? Why would I do that?"

"Come on, it's no secret that there's no love lost between you two."

"Yeah, alright," Owen countered, "but follow my logic here. I'm the medic. I treat you guys when you're injured. Every time something happens to Ianto, whether I caused it or not, I end up spending more time with him than I otherwise would. So, why would I, in the context of your theory, be injuring him on purpose, when it means I have to see him more?"

"Maybe your subconscious hasn't thought it through enough," Jack said, and then grinned as a particularly malicious idea occurred to him. "Or maybe, it's your way of flirting with him. Maybe you actually _like_ spending time with Ianto, and this is your way of insuring that happens."

Owen stood in stunned silence for a moment, and then said, "Oh…my…God. That's mental. You're _mental_."

"I don't think so," Jack said, still grinning and crossing his arms. "I think I'm right. It makes complete sense, explains everything. You keep hurting Ianto because you like him. Now that I think about it, there always has been a lot of weird sexual tension between you two."

"Weird… Okay, fine. You win; you've got me. Found me out, you did. Hurting people is my way of expressing affection. Every time I have a crush on someone, I always punch them in the nose. If they still talk to me after, I know they're mine forever. That's so much easier than asking them out for coffee, or saying 'you look nice today, red really is your colour.' More efficient my way."

"Owen, you need help. You are a very sick man."

"Oh, for Christ's sake! I don't have a thing for Ianto, and I am _not_ hurting him on purpose. What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Stop having him on, Jack," Ianto interjected. "It bothers me. Can we _please_ just get to work, instead of discussing my clothes all day?"

Jack looked about to protest, but to Owen's relief, he relented.

"Fine," Jack said, turning to go back into his office. "But that doesn't mean I'm wrong."

Ianto gave Owen a somewhat apologetic, somewhat exasperated look, and then disappeared into the archives.

Working at Torchwood, Owen assumed he'd never have a strange day again, but this certainly came the closest to one he'd had in years.

xxxXXXxxx

Later that afternoon, as Jack drove him back from the cleaners, Ianto couldn't help but ask what the hell Jack's earlier torture of Owen had been about.

"I don't know," Jack answered, shrugging. "It was fun. Besides, he deserved it."

"Why, exactly?" Ianto asked.

"I don't know," Jack said again. "He seems to have taken a hell of a lot of interest in you lately."

"Jealous?" Ianto asked with an incredulous laugh.

"No, just kind of offended. You have no idea how often he's been sermonizing at me lately, as if…" Jack trailed off, and when he spoke again, his voice was solemn.

"I can't promise you that you'll always be safe," he said. "I can't promise you a long and happy life, because you work for Torchwood, and we both know what that means. But, I _can_ promise that I will _never_ hurt you. You understand that, right?"

"Of course," Ianto said. "Though I doubt Owen's really concerned for my well-being. I think he's just afraid of me.

"Maybe," Jack said, pulling up to the hub, "but I think he's also afraid _for_ you. Which brings up something I've been meaning to talk to you about." He bit his lip, and paused as if he was at a loss for words. That was so unlike Jack, Ianto felt a thrill of fear down his spine, and his usually calm demeanour started to slip.

"All right," Ianto said, "talk to me, then."

"Back before this," Jack said, vaguely waving his hand to indicate his whole life at Torchwood, "before, when I was with the time agency, sometimes, late at night, I'd think about how my life was just sort of passing by. I mean, it was filled with excitement, and danger, and sex, but there were things I missed, and I knew I was missing them. Now, I look at you, and I can see your life just slipping away, and you aren't even paying attention. Things like family, and Christmas, and living to a ripe old age surrounded by grandchildren. You'll never get that here, Ianto, and I want you to have those things."

Ianto stared at him blankly for a second, as if Jack had been speaking a foreign language. Slowly, his eyes cleared and his expression changed from one of shock to one of anger.

"But, I don't want that," he said, "I want to stay here; this is what I do, it's who I am. You can't just expect me to change everything, just because you deem it so. That's not how it works, Jack."

"That's exactly how it works, Ianto. I'm your boss, and I dictate these things. It's for the best. Go out, find someone, fall in love, get married, have kids, be an accountant, or a teacher, or a zookeeper. Anything you want. You're young, and you have your whole life ahead of you, and you deserve those things."

"But. I. Don't. Want. Them. God_damn_ it, Jack. It's my _life_; you cannot dictate what I do with it."

"I just want you to be happy."

"I am happy, Jack. I knew the risks when I joined Torchwood London, and I know them now. After everything we've had together, you just want to wipe my memory and leave me? Don't I even get a say?"

"Of course you do," Jack said, his voice tight with emotion. "And I never said I'd wipe your memory, and I don't want to leave you. I'm just giving you the option, because I can't promise you that you'll always be safe. I want you safe."

"And I want you, Jack. I want you and Torchwood and weevils. This is what I am; it's what's been made of me, and if you want me out, you'll have to Retcon me."

"Good," Jack said, with his million watt smile. "I don't want you out, I just wanted to make sure that this is what _you_ wanted. It's not an offer I've ever made to anyone else."

"I suppose that's sort of romantic, Jack. But, I'm happy exactly were I am."

"Good," Jack said again, and Ianto could tell that he meant it. " Let's get inside. We have to feed Myfanwy."

Ianto followed him into the hub, knowing full well that by 'we' Jack had meant that _Ianto _would be feeding the pterodactyl.

"Do you just keep me around to do the shit jobs?" Ianto asked as he disgustedly threw sticky, sauce-covered chunks of raw meat to their pet.

"No," Jack replied from the catwalk he was watching from. "I keep you around because I don't know what the hell I'd do without you. Besides, Myfanwy seems to like you best."

"That's comforting," Ianto said, jumping back as the impossible creature tried to take his hand. "I'd hate to see what she does to the people she _doesn't_ get on with. At least if she took _your _arm, it would grow back."

Jack laughed, and Ianto smiled at the sound. It was rare for Jack to genuinely laugh, and Ianto was proud of the fact that he was the only person who ever heard it on a regular basis.

He threw the last chunks out, washed his hands thoroughly, and then joined Jack on the catwalk.

"Were you serious?" he asked as Jack put his arms around him. "About letting me go?"

"Yes," Jack replied, "but I was also serious about wanting you to stay."

"Good. Because you're not getting rid of me that easily."

Jack said nothing, but he pulled Ianto tighter, and while it wasn't a declaration of undying love, for Ianto, it was more than enough.


	12. That Is Not What I Meant At All

A/N: This is for my sister, who wanted more action and a case to solve, and for Cracklin' Rosie, who wanted a specific scene. My most heartfelt thanks to everyone who has reviewed, favourited, and alerted. You guys keep this going!

_**Disclaimer: I don't own 'Torchwood'. I do this for fun, make no money, and intend no harm. **_

"It went left!" Tosh yelled into his earpiece. "Ianto, try to cut it off at the next tunnel. Hurry up, it's gaining."

Ianto put on an extra burst of speed and, not for the first time, cursed the fact that he was the fastest of them. Jack was immortal, and he was very fit, so it literally would not kill him to run a little faster sometimes. It was one of his biggest pet peeves about Jack; the man would certainly recuperate much faster than Ianto would, but when it came to 'cutting the alien off at the next tunnel', it was always Ianto ruining his expensive Italian loafers sprinting through sewage. It wasn't fair to feel that way, he knew. Just because he couldn't die, didn't mean Jack was any stronger or faster than he'd been when he was mortal. Still, when you're up to you knees in filth, Ianto figured you could have all the unfair thoughts you liked.

"Where is it, Tosh?" Ianto breathlessly asked. "I'm at the next tunnel and it is not."

"It should be right in front of you," Tosh answered. "Are you sure you don't see it? Have you looked everywhere?"

"Yes, I'm quite positive a six-foot tall purple alien isn't just a bit to my left." He felt something brush his ankle and shivered.

"Tosh," he whispered, holding perfectly still, "can it swim?"

"Probably. It seems to be amphibious in nature. Are you all right?"

Ianto didn't have a chance to answer before something was wrapping itself around his leg, and trying to pull him under the soiled water. Ianto tried to pull his leg free, and when that didn't work, he tried stepping on it with his free foot. Nothing seemed to loosen its' python-like grip, and Ianto kept losing purchase on the slick ground.

He started flailing in the water, no longer caring how dirty it was, just trying to keep his head up long enough to draw breath. He could distantly hear voices shouting his name over his earpiece, Jack's voice chief amongst them, but then his earpiece was gone. Ianto didn't care. The others knew where he was, and he was_ not_ going to die this way. Not splashing around in the sewer, drowned by an alien, while his friends and lover were 100 yards away, on a brilliant summer day. To his mind, that was not how Ianto Jones went down.

He finally pulled his gun loose from its' holster, and prayed that his aim would still be accurate, though he couldn't see what he was aiming at. Shooting himself in the leg was a real possibility, and the infection that would surely set in would probably be enough for him to lose his leg, if not his life. That was yet another way Ianto couldn't imagine dieing, so he steadied his hand as much as he could whilst still treading water, and fired.

The good news was that the bullet seemed to hit home, as the pressure on his leg loosened immediately. The bad news was that the sound reverberated off the tunnel walls, seemingly amplified beyond belief, and Ianto went suddenly deaf, and started to pass out. His final thought before the blackness took him was that _this_ - drowning in shit due to firing his weapon in an enclosed space – this seemed like just the way Ianto Jones would die.

xxxXXXxxx

Jack paced back and forth in front of the medical bay, impatiently fiddling with his braces. He'd been there since Ianto'd been brought in, and Owen had unceremoniously kicked out everyone but Gwen. He'd said he needed her to 'assist' him, which Jack felt _he_ could do perfectly well himself.

"You're too close, Jack," Owen had said as he'd pushed him out the door. "Wouldn't do to have you in here cocking it up."

So, Jack was waiting and pacing. He'd only taken one brief break, to quickly shower, and then he'd been right back in front of the med bay doors. He knew what was going on in there, vaguely.

After he'd found Ianto, unconscious and barely alive, he'd heard Owen saying something about clearing Ianto's lungs, pumping his stomach, and positively filling the boy with antibiotics as a precaution. Jack had heard that, but he didn't really listen to it. When he'd pulled Ianto out of the water, it had brought back memories of the last time he'd done that exact thing, but he'd been sure he wouldn't be able to bring Ianto back this time.

Then Owen had been there, and he'd gotten Ianto to breathe, and Jack's head had been filled with white noise. This was a living nightmare, and Jack had been cursing himself for not getting there faster. Still, Jack distinctly remembered Owen saying that Ianto would be all right, that Jack _had _gotten there on time, just as Jack always did. The dashing hero, that was he, and Jack was holding on to Owen's words tightly.

Suddenly tired of doing nothing but waiting, Jack decided to find Tosh, and see if she'd learned anything about the alien from the sewer. Normally, they wouldn't even have noticed the creature since it had been here for quite some time, and hadn't come through the rift recently, but it had been carrying something that registered rift spikes. Something it had almost killed Ianto for, and Jack was _very _curious to see what could be that important.

xxxXXXxxx

The only more annoying to Tosh than a box that was almost impossible to open, was a box that was almost impossible to open, and contained nothing. It had made a soft moaning noise when she'd arrived at the right combination, but that was all. The sound had been so soft she wasn't even sure she'd heard it.

"Anything?" Jack said behind her, making her jump.

"No," she said irritably. "Empty. All of that for an empty lump of metal, it's _senseless._ How's Ianto?"

"Still in with Owen," Jack said with a shrug. "Are you sure it doesn't do anything? Let me see it."

"Oh, right," Tosh said, tossing him the box, "because you know _everything._ Sometimes I wonder why you keep me here at all, if you're so much better at my job than I am."

"What the hell's wrong with you?" Jack asked, turning the box over in his hands. "Where did that come from?"

Tosh shook her head, trying to clear it. She felt like she'd had about four pints too many, and all of her inhibitions had suddenly been turned off.

"I don't know," she said. "Jack, I'm so sorry. Just worried about Ianto I guess. I'm going to check on him. Not that Owen will let me in, not with _her_ around."

Tosh practically stormed away from her desk, and headed for the medical bay. _Not with _her_ around_, why on Earth had she said that? She'd certainly thought it enough, but it wasn't something she would ever say aloud, and certainly not to Jack. Jack had a habit of ignoring rules and people when it came to Gwen too, and _that_ was a thought she'd _never _had before.

If she was actually allowed in to see Ianto, and if he was awake, she was going to have to be _very _careful about what she said.

"Whoa," Owen said, coming out of the med bay as Tosh got there, "where do you think you're going, darlin'?"

"I wanted to check on Ianto."

"He's sleeping," Gwen said, coming out behind Owen, "but he's just fine, sweetheart. Where's Jack? I thought he was waiting out here."

"He got tired of waiting, I guess, since you wouldn't let him in," Tosh said, inexplicably unable to keep a sharp tone out of her voice. "He's looking at the device that alien had on him. Waste of time if you ask me. Well, if I can't see Ianto, and I can't do my job, I guess I'll go do the coffee then."

There was a small, sane voice in her head that was screaming at her to just shut it, but she couldn't. It was strange, that, but the part of her brain that registered that something was very, _very_ wrong, was immediately locked away.

Feeling unaccountably angry with everyone but Ianto, Tosh went off to make the coffee.

xxxXXXxxx

"Good news," Owen said, slapping Jack on the shoulder. "Ianto's gonna be fine. He'll have to stay in bed for a while, and he's gonna wake up feeling like shit. I wouldn't want to be him in the morning, mate. You can see him now, if you like. I'm going to take a shower."

He clapped Jack on the back again and started to walk away. "By the way," he said, pausing in mid-stride, "Tosh been acting odd to you?"

"A little," Jack said, voice dreamy. "She was working on this. Do you recognise it?" He tossed the box to Owen, who caught it deftly.

"Yeah," Owen said, "it looks just like a candy dish my Gran had. I'm off to the shower, then, and then I'm gonna find Tosh. I can't stand it when she's cross with me."

He tossed the box to Gwen, and then left the two of them alone.

"Owen's right," Gwen said. "It does look like a candy dish, or a jewellery box. Just space junk."

"That space junk almost got Ianto killed," Jack said, taking the box back. "It _has _to be important."

"Perhaps the alien only _thought_ it was important. Doesn't matter now. No one died, but the creature. Fancy a drink after I shower? I think we could all use one, after today."

"I don't know. I think I'm going to sit with Ianto. I don't want him to wake up alone."

"Oh, he'll be out all night," Gwen said, with a winning smile. "Owen had to anaesthetise him. Just one drink, Jack. I thought you'd always wanted a date with me."

xxxXXXxxx

Owen found Tosh by the coffee machine, seven cappuccinos all ready made, and more on the way.

"What the hell are you doing?" he asked, turning the machine off.

"Well," Tosh said, "everyone's always clamouring for their coffee, and with Ianto out, I didn't want to be at this all night. If you want a cup, you can re-heat it."

"I don't think Gwen and Jack can drink that by themselves, love. And, as much as I'd love to try your coffee, I can't. Dead, remember?"

"Oh, right. Like I could forget. It's all you go on about."

"What the hell have I done to piss you off, Tosh? Tell me, what did I do?"

"Nothing!" Tosh yelled. "I just can't seem to stop talking. I don't know what's wrong with me. I don't want to mean anything I'm saying, but I can't stop!"

She burst into tears, and Owen wrapped his arms around her.

"It's okay, darlin'" he said soothingly, "don't cry. It breaks my heart when you cry."

Tosh pushed away from him, furiously wiping her face.

"Don't touch me," she said. "You never wanted to touch me before, don't start now."

"I'm not good enough for you," Owen shot back, disbelieving the words were actually coming out of his mouth. "I never was. You're kind, and clever, and gorgeous, and even when I was alive, you deserved so much better than me. It hurts me when you're angry with me. Please don't be angry any more."

There was a whine to Owen's voice now, a begging tone, and he wished he could grab the words out of the ether and destroy them. He wasn't even sure that he meant them, but he couldn't stop himself saying them. From the look on Tosh's face, she wasn't sure he meant them either.

"Just leave me alone," she said. "Don't patronise me. Go check on your patient. Isn't that your job?"

Owen stood in disbelief for a moment, then turned to do as Tosh said, and check on Ianto. He was confused and disoriented, and somewhat ashamed. He knew he was leaving Tosh feeling the same way, but there was nothing he could do about it.

xxxXXXxxx

"What?" Jack asked, stunned and unable to process what Gwen had said.

"A date," she repeated. "A drink, just you and me. I always thought that you and I… if it weren't for Rhys…"

"If it weren't for Rhys, there would still be Ianto. He almost _died_ today, Gwen, and you want a date? What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing. I thought Ianto was just a fling-"

"You thought wrong. I _love_ him, and _you_ love Rhys. I love him so much; I would sacrifice _any _of you for him. What the hell is happening to you? This isn't like you at all."

Gwen looked stunned, and then she looked as if she was going to be sick.

"You love Ianto," she said. "_I _love Ianto, and Rhys. Jack, what are we doing? Oh, my God, I'm so sorry. I don't know why I said those things."

"Me either," Jack said. "And Tosh was acting weird… we have to find Owen and see if he's acting strangely. It could be some sort of alien thing."

They left Tosh's desk, with the empty alien box laying on top of it.

xxxXXXxxx

They found Owen in the medical bay, reading a medical journal.

"He's still not awake," Owen said without looking up. "I anaesthetised him. Don't worry; your precious tea-boy isn't feeling any pain. Stupid git can't be arsed to keep himself out of trouble for one bleeding day, and I'm stuck here baby-sitting him. It's shit, Jack."

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Jack said. "And it's amazing how often I've had to say that today."

"I don't know," Owen replied. "Ianto kept a killer robot in the basement, and he got a slap on the wrist. I opened the rift to save _your_ ass, and I got fired. If I started shagging you, would I get a free pass like Ianto? Or Gwen? Do you base employee rankings on how attractive someone is? It's bullshit."

"Do you want to fight?" Jack asked.

"Yeah, maybe I do. Someone oughta teach you."

"It'll _never_ be you-"

"Stop it!" Gwen yelled, stepping between them. "You're acting like children, as if that's something new. Something is _very_ wrong here. It's like I know what it is, but every time I try to think of it, it just slips away. Owen, go get Tosh and tell her to meet us in the conference room in five minutes. We have to figure this out before we kill each other."

"Fine," Owen growled, stalking out.

"Come on, Jack," Gwen said. "We have to stop this before it gets worse. I feel like I got incredibly drunk, and it's getting harder to stop myself."

"I'll be there in a minute," Jack said. "I want to stay with Ianto alone for a second."

"Jack-"

"Just go," he all but yelled, and Gwen left quietly.

Jack sat down on the edge of the medical gurney Ianto was lying on, and took the man's hand. He was quiet for a moment, just looking at him, and it occurred to Jack that he'd meant it when he'd said he would sacrifice any of the rest of them, if it meant saving Ianto's life. He wasn't aware of when that had happened, but now that he knew it, he couldn't take the knowledge back.

He kissed Ianto's head, and brushed his hair back.

"I love you," he whispered, and then left to meet the others.

xxxXXXxxx

Jack walked into the conference room to find everyone looking at anything else but each other. He wasn't sure what had been said in his absence, but he knew it couldn't have been good.

"Right," he said, taking his place at the head of the table, "something's affecting all of us, something bad, and we have to figure out what it is. Tosh, has any alien tech come into the hub recently? Anything you haven't catalogued yet?"

"No," she said. "Just the…" she trailed off, and placed her hands on her temples as if her head suddenly hurt.

"Just the what, Tosh," Jack persisted. "Think. What have we brought in besides the-" It felt like his skull was being cracked in two, like someone had filled his head with carpet tacks and shaken it around, as if his brain had been impaled with a railroad spike. Jack had felt worse.

"The box," he said through gritted teeth, and everyone winced and grabbed their heads. "It's the… box. We all touched it, and none of us could even think about it, right? Tosh, I need you to run a scan, find out what it is."

"I tried," Tosh said, holding her head with tears streaming down her face. "My head started splitting, like I was dieing."

"Don't make her do it, Jack" Owen said.

"She has too."

"She can't," Gwen chimed in. "Just the thought of it is hurting her. You do it."

"Fine," Jack said. "Everyone, just stay here. Tosh, did you figure out what the alien was?"

"A Cocaxathin. We've seen them before, once. They aren't usually dangerous."

"Cocaxathin. Good place to start. Just stay here, and try not to talk to each other."

xxxXXXxxx

Jack was sifting through all the information they had on the Cocaxathin race, and every keystroke felt like he was shooting himself. Whatever the box was, it was dangerous, and he had to figure out how to get rid of it.

Before starting his search, he'd tried closing the thing, breaking it, even setting it on fire, but it seemed indestructible, and nothing worked. So, it was down to research, and he hadn't found anything useful yet. His nose was bleeding, and he was pretty sure he'd had an aneurysm. It didn't matter. The answer had to be there. It had no other choice.

xxxXXXxxx

"Do you think he'll actually find something?" Owen asked idly.

"Jack told us not to talk," Tosh said, refusing to look at him.

"What, and you always do what you're told? Don't you ever have _any_ fun?"

"Shut up, the both of you," Gwen said. "You'll end up saying something you regret. Trust me."

"Why? What did you say? Come on, sweetheart, it's share time." Owen said this with a smirk, and Gwen rolled her eyes.

"Nothing I meant, all right?" she said. "Let's just be quiet and try to get through this, okay?"

They sat silently for about fifteen minutes, each passing second making it harder not to say something.

"You know what I've always hated about you-" Owen started, and then they all jolted forward as what felt like a bolt of lightning went through them.

"Oh, Jesus," Gwen said.

"Owen, oh, I'm so sorry. I'm so embarrassed." This came from Tosh, who'd turned a shade of bright red.

"It's all right," Owen said, and then Jack stumbled into the room. He looked like he'd been in a bar fight, and lost badly.

"What happened?" Gwen asked. "What was it?"

"The Cocaxathin version of truth serum," Jack replied, falling into his seat. "They use it for trials. After it's been opened, anyone who touches it is forced to tell their deepest, darkest secrets. But, it also makes you tell your most evil thoughts and buried desires. You don't even have to mean it. If you think it, you say it, even if you're just _afraid_ of saying it, and it's not true. Ridiculous system, out of date now. My best guess is that our alien was carrying it to sell it to a collector. The migraines are a security measure to keep the prisoner from shutting it down."

"How did you shut it down?" Owen asked.

"It takes a drop of the DNA of the person who originally opened it to seal it again. I got some of Tosh's blood from the medical bay. Then, I locked the box inside my safe. We should be fine now."

"I don't feel fine," Gwen said. "The things I said, Jack, I didn't mean them…"

"I'm sure none of us did. Go home, all of you. We've had a hell of a day. Gwen, could you stay for just a minute?"

Jack waited until the others were gone, and then said, "Just so we're on the same page, I _did_ mean what I said. Ianto is it for me. When you first started here, I thought… but, it's Ianto, and it always will be. Okay?"

"Of course," Gwen replied. "I didn't mean anything, Jack. I have Rhys, and he's it for me. Okay?"

"Of course," Jack parroted, and left Gwen standing as he headed back to Ianto.

xxxXXXxxx

Owen was walking Tosh to her car, and the silence between them was palpable and awkward. He had to break it.

"Tosh…" he said, "I… I just want you to know that I didn't mean everything I said."

"I know," she said, with a forced smile. "It's like Jack said, it doesn't have to be true."

"But, I did mean some of it," Owen said, and kissed her on the cheek. "Have a good night, Tosh."

xxxXXXxxx

Jack sat with Ianto until the young man awoke. Unsurprisingly, Ianto's first words were, "What the hell happened to you?"

Jack looked down at his shirt and saw it was still covered with his blood, though his wounds had, of course, healed.

"Long story," Jack said. "How are you?"

"Well, I'm not big on dignity today, but I'm alive, so that's good. What happened?"

"I found you."

"You always find me.

"I always will."

"Tell me your long story," Ianto said. "What happened while I was out?"

"Well, it started with the box that alien was smuggling…" Jack said, and proceeded to tell him a much-abridged version of the story, leaving out the parts with Gwen and Owen, as much for their sakes as for Ianto's.

When he was done, Ianto looked ready to pass out again.

"I'm going to let you get some sleep," Jack said, giving him a kiss. "I'll be upstairs doing some paperwork, but I'll check on you soon."

"Okay," Ianto said, closing his eyes. He was all ready drifting off when he said, "Jack? I love you."

There was nothing but silence that followed, and when he opened his eyes, Jack was all ready gone.


	13. Between The Desire And The Spasm

_**Sorry this took so long to post. Life got in the way. this is my first attempt at semi-smut. Please r&r.**_

_**Disclaimer: Don't own. BBC and RTD owns.**_

The day started impossibly badly for Ianto Jones. It started with him being late, not regular late, but 'Ianto' late, which was still 20 minutes earlier than even Jack started the day, but half an hour cut off his prep time. And he needed that prep time. It was impossible what was asked of him on a daily basis.

He was everything to Torchwood that it need him to be: housekeeper, butler, archivist, field agent, and yes, even guard dog. Then there was his personal life, which still maintained a 'Torchwood' quality, that had a bit to do with Jack thinking he was a super-hero. Because Jack knew everything that was asked of him, and he still expected Ianto to keep up after-hours.

It wasn't so bad really, considering Ianto was 25, and young enough not to need sleep as often as he'd certainly like it. But, dear God, what about turning 30? How the hell would he survive then?

' Probably won't have ' Ianto thought as he locked his door, a very droll thought to be starting out a Monday.

Then, his landlady happened at him. Once a month she managed to catch him coming in or out, and then he was in for at least a good 10 minutes lost, as he endured her latest prattle. She never seemed to happen to anyone else, so why she'd chosen Ianto for this fresh hell, he'd never understand.

Today, she started out with, "You really are quite a dashing young man. I don't know who's luckier, you or your boyfriend. Or, is that rude of me to say? You are the snappier dresser, though, gotta give you that. I wonder you haven't given him a makeover; I thought you boys loved that," she prattled on. It was agonizing.

20 minutes later he finally made it into the Hub, and was immediately accosted by Owen.

"Ianto, I need you to be a mate today," Owen said, taking him by the arm, and Ianto _knew _it was going to be bad.

"I'm going to talk to Jack," Owen continued, "and I'm gonna tell him that he has to let us sleep, at least four hours, at least twice a week. This two hours here and there thing will do us in far faster than anything else. That's gonna mean someone, and by that I'm sorry that I probably mean you, will have to do a rota. Jack's gonna say he does let us sleep, I'm gonna say ' no, you don't. . Then, he's gonna turn to you and say ' Ianto, do l let you sleep adequate hours?,' and here's the important bit: _he will listen to whatever you say._ Please, be a mate, and buy us sleep. You'd like some kip, now and then, wouldn't you, Ianto?"

God yes. Of course he would. But, he honestly didn't think what applied to the rest of them would ever apply to him. Still, it wasn't fair to take that out on the rest of them. Even though that meant he was actually buying himself more work. Of course, Jack gave him the rota.

Which was what he was working on when Jack emerged from his office, sullen at having lost a fight with Owen, and said, "Ianto, have you ever had drunken, weepy sex, when you weren't the drunk and weepy one?"

"Yes," Ianto said, after a beat. Another beat. "Why?"

"That's how I just spent my morning. Metaphorically speaking, just to be clear. Never let that woman on the phone to me again."

"I'll make a note, Jack." Guard - tick.

"You know," Jack said, smiling brightly, "I didn't actually expect you to say yes to that. I imagined you always held their hair back for them."

"I did go to University, Jack. And, I'm never what's expected of me."

"I know. Keep keeping me on my toes, and I'll never let you go."

The morning wasn't all bad.

xxXXxx

It was Jack's eyes, Ianto thought later, as he was watching the man dress, and not listening to him speak. Prattle, that's all Jack was espousing at the moment, but Ianto didn't mind. Because of Jack's eyes, and their deeper vocabulary.

Not an hour before ianto had been deep inside of him, thrusting slowly, taking as much pleasure from how open and vulnerable Jack was at these moments as he took from the feeling of Jack spasming around his cock. The best part though, the _very _best bit, was the look in Jack's eyes just before he came.

Those eyes had seen the furthest end of the universe, they'd seen time begin and end, they'd seen life and death, and thousands of years worth of stories. Those eyes had seen billions of lives, and probably hundreds of loves; they'd seen everything, but when Ianto was on top of him and softly stroking him, Jack's eyes saw only him.

The others could talk about Jack's smile, or his charm, but ianto knew better. It was his eyes that Ianto obsessed over. It was his eyes that contained all of his magic.

Ianto knew Jack would never say any of it out loud, but in those brief moments between Jack's lustful smirk and his release, his eyes said it all. They spoke of trust, and loyalty, unwavering faith, and, maybe, love.

The magnitude, the _power, _contained in that moment was always just as beautiful, and just as leg-numbingly hot as the sex itself, because that was when Ianto knew that everything he'd ever dared to hope for was _true. _He felt those things then as absolute knowledge.

Of course, every morning, when Ianto awoke cold and alone, the sheets smelling of fucking, and Jack and desolation, Ianto always knew better.

It was worth it though, for those brief seconds when Jack was _his, _only and ever his. Those moments made any bad day bearable. Or, so Ianto told himself on nights like this, when Jack was still close, and Ianto felt _so_ alive.

The day started out impossibly badly for Ianto Jones, but Jack's lying, loving, haunted eyes made it perfect.


End file.
